


375-13

by Darkerpaths



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkerpaths/pseuds/Darkerpaths
Summary: The Lost Eleventh Legion is summoned to put down a dangerous alien threat in the still early years of the Great Crusade. Honor and pride are everything in a battle that would have been remembered for all time.





	1. My name is Legion

**:/Imperial time mark. [C. 847.07.12 M 30.]**

**-** **Compliance report from the 375th** **Expedition fleet.**

 **-** **XIth Legiones Astartes.**

 **\XIth Legion elements respond to calls for aid from 375th** **Expedition fleet army groups approaching system designated 375-13. Locally known as the Ra'Chaal system.**

 **·** **Scout elements report (32 satellites. 14 planets. 3 deemed habitable.)**

 **·** **Xeno's fleet elements present. Total strength (Data not found)**

**+Mission objectives+ ext.. Officium Legion Master.**

**Primus: Exterminate the native xenos species. (Biologis, and Theater command threat analysis attached.)**

**Secundus:**

**·** **Preserve habitability of Ra'Chaal system.**

 **·** **Use of Exterminatus Protocol… Denied**

 **·** **Deployment of Capital weaponry… Approved**

" **With the dawn brothers."**

**/:::::/**

**Thought for the day.**

" _ **Every battle is fought within. Conquer the battlefield inside you and the enemy disappears like the illusion he is." – Primarch Dorn**_

**Mark: -18.27.16**

**} Final Astartes ships exit Warp at rendezvous. Tenth Echelon reports one hundred percent strength accounted and ready.**

**-** **Praetor Markus Vaurion 10th** **Echelon, calls for a war council aboard the Battle Barge,** _ **Brimming Rays**_

* * *

_It felt strange having the strategium this empty._

This grand gilded room where the deaths of both our enemies and our brothers had been set out and planned in meticulous detail many times before. The room was always a hub of unending activity.

But it was empty now with the battle barge only recently dropping out of the Warp after several weeks of travel as we moved to our next warzone. Save for myself and the red robed tech priest who had and was to continue assisting me with the center piece hologram projector. I took another deep breath, smoothing down my high collared black tailcoat one more time out of habit.

_This was to be my first briefing as a Captain of the Eleventh Legion._

The first my Praetor had commanded me to plan and lead since my ascension to command of the legion's seventh company. One of the youngest ever to achieve such distinction in the Dawn Stalkers. I was honored beyond words to take up such responsibility.

To be marked as one of promise in our mighty legion who had so doggedly hunted the enemies of mankind across the stars since before the crusade had even officially begun. To be found worthy enough to carry on my predecessor's duties.

Again I smoothed down the cool silk on top of my gene forged body.

" _You look nervous."_

The adept's voice was surprisingly natural for one of the Mehanicum. Making it all the more shocking that Enginseer Egli dared use it unbidden.

The Martian did not flinch away as I directed my attention to him. He met my piercing gaze with bright brown eyes and only smiled, pulling back the hood from his light brown crop of hair held tightly in place by a black and crimson sash. The mark of his machine cult plainly displayed on his forehead. His rebreather and binary translator hanging down around the man's throat.

Egli was young. Just like me.

_But that was no excuse._

"We know no fear. Enginseer." I practically growled at him.

He chuckled, "Still, you look nervous."

"That is impossible." I replied. "We are far removed from such mundane…"

I struggled to find the words to tell him of our nature as Astartes. But one seemed appropriate.

" _Feelings."_

Once again Egli laughed at me and shrugged. "Yeah. So don't be nervous."

Before I could launch into a no doubt lengthy lecture on the psychology of the Space Marine Legions. Heralded by a well-oiled hiss of the strategium blast doors opening, the other finally gathered Captains of the Echelon began to arrive.

This was to be only a preliminary overview of our strategy further orders for companies would be sent out later, where they would go and whom they would fight with. We were well used to this lighting quick style of deployment.

Some were dressed as I was, light duty coats and robes of varying dull dark colors. Others arrived armed and armored for war in full plate. Light equally reflecting from the polished bronze of their power armor and devoured by the war gear's black trim.

Honor, duty, and most importantly respect was everything to our Eleventh legion. How we treated our betters was ingrained in all of our customs and culture.

I knew without a doubt that I was the least experienced officer here. So I kept my eyes down as my fellows filed in through the portal a Contemptor Dreadnought could have walked through, and found places around the projector table continuing the conversations they had begun on their way in. Egli put his red hood back in place and hitched his face mask up over his mouth, returning to the anonymity it offered. A few Captains sent a polite nod in my direction which eased my nerves somewhat.

Behind them came the commanders of the imperial army groups whom we had come to aid. Dozens of men and women in full dress uniform of the army and navy both. The guests not of the flagship speaking in quiet tones about the novelty of just where they were and what they were doing as they found seats in the larger amphitheater.

But all small talk and pleasantries ended as four final figures stepped up to the Threshold of Glory.

First was Sergeant Ryder, the standard bearer for my company and the Echelon both. His armor spotless and gleaming like the Imperial eagle on his chest plate, and the golden flagstaff in his hand. The Dawn Stalker's symbol, the golden rising sun of Terra sending out its warming rays as it crested over a horizon on a field of pure white, glowed proudly over our heads.

Ryder planted the flag down on the hard metal floor and stood motionless as a marble statue, his mark II helm showing no emotion in its red eyes. As one, all of the legionnaires present brought our clenched right fists up over our hearts in solemn salute.

Next to enter was our Master Diaconus, Bruis. The Tenth Echelon's keeper of moral, protector of the Legion's honor and fighting spirit. Dressed in deep black flowing robes thick mail gloves and a large hood, barely a few shades darker than his ebony skin. Bruis was lightly gripping the haft of his power maul, the signature weapon and staff of office for men of his kind.

Bruis took his place next to Sergeant Ryder at head of the holotable on the right from my perspective. Then turned beckoning the last two Astartes behind him into the open.

I felt it all around me and even at the back of my own mind. The little twinge of surprise and wave of confusion. I had been far too busy to pay attention to rumors that had barely even been made one circuit around the usual routes of whispers that existed even in our proud legion after we dropped out of the Warp.

But it was true. The fifteenth legion had come to join the battle.

This Captain stepped into the strategium, his intricate heraldry and marks of honor distinguishing his status of command. He was tall even for an armored Astartes easily the tallest here. But what was more surprisingly he had the arcane metal cowl of a psychic hood atop his head. The protective war gear of a librarian.

_A sight I had never before seen amongst the Dawn Stalkers._

This foreign Space Marine carried an iron staff that wouldn't have looked out of place in the hands of an agri-world sheppard. A shimmering cloak of bright polished chain mail hung over his shoulders and down his back over his grey full plate armor. A volkite charger holstered on his left hip. Oath papers fluttering as he walked over to Bruis and stood quietly next to the Diaconus.

His skin was dark, as well as his hair and close trimmed beard. Almost golden eyes scanned our ranks no doubt taking notes but for what I couldn't imagine. Possibly just savoring the experience just as we were. Even during my nearing thirty years of service as a legionnaire I had only fought alongside two other legions. The Ultramarines and the fourth during different compliance operations.

Finally our Praetor walked into the dim light. Scalp and face both undoubtedly freshly shaven his masterfully worked artificer armor immaculate as usual. The legion's rising sun proudly centered on his chest plate, a death's head skull and laurels on his right pauldron eagle wings cradling his command numeration on his left. Eleventh legion. Seventh company, Tenth Echelon.

Markus Vaurion gathered a length of his black fur cape around his right forearm. But the Praetor did not take the traditional place of leadership in this hallowed hall. Observing an honored custom.

_Vaurion was waiting, we all were._

Leaving the command position at our head vacant, just in case a warrior of greater rank or experience had yet to arrive.

Or, as we all dared to hope and dream. That one day it would be our Primarch himself to emerge from the shadows and take his rightful place in command of his gene sons.

Vaurion waited for three beats of his twin hearts, only we Astartes heard his quiet sigh. I noted a few of the other Captains did the same their heads dipping low again in disappointment. But there was nothing to be done now.

The Praetor took his rightful place, flicking his steely gaze over us.

"Well met brothers," He began. "War calls once again. And so we answer."

He pointed over to his left at the tall librarian of the XVth. "This is Captain Khonsu, he and his warriors have been sent to advise us in our campaign."

A small part of me suddenly began to question Khonsu's presence and my blood began to rise. Ill thoughts in my imaginations of some great shame our legion brothers had committed that now forced this oversight on us filling my head.

"And when I say advise, I mean _advise_." Vaurion clarified locking eyes with a few of the more pointed glances directed at Khonsu.

"You will offer him all due respect and consideration for his words. Understood?"

He knew us all too well. We nodded and gave both men another salute. Not held for nearly as long as we did with Ryder and the standard however. But Vaurion appeared satisfied.

" _Skius."_

I snapped to attention at the sound of my name and my Praetor's pointing gauntlet. Awaiting command.

The corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly in amusement. "Show us our prey."

I looked over and nodded to Egli. The Techpriest took up his data slate and the lights around us dimmed.

A biologis diagram appeared before us. The floating images of a dissected humanoid being. Measurements showing it was bigger than an average human but still nothing compared to an Astartes. Close up picts displayed its scaly reptilian skin. A fish lipped mouth full of omnivorous teeth. A single strand of jet black hair unbound from its top knot and an array of sharp spikes down its back.

"Sometimes it is not the arm that swings a weapon which is the greatest threat. But the one that offers the blade." I began.

The gathered Dawn Stalkers looked at me in confusion. I reached down to the lip of the holotable and picked up another data slate which I offered to the Captain on my right.

"Species designated Delta Nine Four Four Eight Epsilon. Preliminary translations of their dialect seized from their… Customers, say they know themselves as the Ra'Chaal."

Captain Rameus, the old pan-pacifican commander of the thirty fourth heavy support spoke in question, "Customers?"

I flicked my index and middle finger at Egli. He promptly switched to the next set of displays. Scrolling technical specifications of hundreds of different weapon types, ranging from small arms to laser batteries capable of decimating a battleship.

"Most species survived the long night by making war." I said, "This species survived by arming those that did."

Rameus nodded in understanding. Mutters and whispered discussions filtered over us from the naval and army officers.

I continued, "As I said the Ra'Chaal been supplying weapons to almost every other species they can reason with for quite some time now. All across this expanse, every time one being killed another in war. Or has stood against our Imperium's manifest destiny. Odds are it was with a weapon supplied by an alliance with the Ra'Chaal."

The display switched again. And the voices around me reached a new height as they realized what they were looking at.

"But even if they do not take the field with their customers in some fashion." I said. "The Ra'Chaal have sold and deployed many legions of synthetic infantry. Independent thinking fighting machines, ranging in size from standard human to larger rarer heavy support forms that would make one of us seem small."

The Mechanicus reports on salvaged machines appeared on the holoscreens showing various models of wedge headed mechanical men. Absent a true machine spirit, just abominations of virtual coding. Their sole purpose to fight and kill according to their master's program. Unthinking, and utterly in-human.

Egli had been most vexed about this facet of our enemy's technology. The machine cult's taboos against artificial minds ingrained deep into his beliefs. While the other revelations had sparked conversations, this laid a heavy cloud of silence across the strategium. The implications of this practice well known to all.

I continued. "Aside from their larger synthetics, physically they aren't much more of a threat than your average human male. But their cunning and technical prowess is not to be underestimated."

I looked down again at my own data slate for reference. "Page five of the analysis. Twelfth legion forces are pushed back from the capital citadel of Eighty Four- Ninety Two by timely reinforcements and resupply from a Ra'Chaal convoy. Fighting is dragged on for another eight months before Warhound reinforcements arrived."

Now intrigued by what could send back that legion of mad men. Captains flicked through the extensive lists of conflicts that had been prolonged or nearly thwarted by the arrival of arms and munitions from this species. Luna Wolves losing half a company to the aliens' guns. The _Hrafnkel_ , the flagship of the sixth legion damaged as it came into low orbit to provide fire support.

One too many honor stains upon the pride and glory of our crusade. Insults and injury done to the legions and our brothers in arms.

_Which we had been called to correct._

Now a planetary display shimmered into being on the holo projector. I quickly recounted the system's satellites, fourteen worlds, five gas giants, and six poisonous rocks. But three worlds relatively clean human breathable atmospheres and Terra normal gravity. Lastly the thirty two planetoids. Basically floating mineral deposits which fueled the Xeno's war machine.

I pointed up to the planets "Here is our battle ground. The soon to be graveyard of this pestilent species. As I am sure you are all well aware, there must be some finesse employed in this conquest. We are to preserve their worlds for humankind. Rather than just phosphex and virus bomb them into oblivion."

Dots appeared on the system display. The last known positions of the Imperial Navy's forward elements securing the transition points and skirmishing with the Ra'Chaal vessels in system. Securing the way for our main force.

I had prepared this opening strategy myself. Calling back on years of strategic tendencies favored by the Dawn Stalkers. Our honored ways gave me comfort, knowing how well these strategies had served the legion before.

As our fighting ships blockaded the system ensuring there would be no escape. Every available Astartes would make for Ra'Chaal prime and begin our cascading conquest. Landing in the capital hives with armored, and close orbit support as we waded through…

Vaurion held up his hand and spoke. "Brothers. I am sure you can picture and are anticipating what our working tactical plan will be."

My hearts froze. Questioning why the Praetor had chosen to intercede. His brown eyes shifted over to my green ones. I knew he sensed my sudden concern.

"This is a credit to you Skius." He continued. "Anyone else would have suggested the same strategy."

"Techpriest." Vaurion commanded. "Bring up the system chart."

Egli obeyed and returned to the larger tactical display. Vaurion pointed up to the farthest planet. The system's primary export station Ra'Chaal three.

"While the Xenos undoubtedly have their homeworld well defended, the majority of their martial strength is focused on this world. Their first line of defense, from where they send chaos out into the galaxy."

He paused for a moment to gather his breath and thoughts. "Our methods are to be redirected in this campaign brothers. A Vanguard will seize the orbital elevators on this world with support from our comrades of the Solar Auxilia and sunder their armies. While the rest of the legion and navy scour the planetoids of the Xeno's filth."

The Praetor had spoken and so we would obey. All the Captains accepted this without a second thought. Our legion had always deployed to shatter an enemies at the weakest point of their greatest strength. But my eyes couldn't help but be drawn to Captain Khonsu. Wondering if he was the reason for our change of plans on this eve of battle.

A voice broke through the silence that had befallen us.

" _My Lord Vaurion."_

It was Captain Arminger, commander of the sixty first assault company. Unsurprisingly to myself, he had come in his full armor. His short brown hair neatly combed and lacquered back. The raging thunder bolts crossed on his chest signifying how he had commanded one of our Vanguard strikes in place of the Praetor or another of the legion's lords.

Diaconus Bruis shifted a little, even with Arminger's slightly bowed head and careful tone. Vaurion raised a hand to him. "Speak."

"Who is to lead the Vanguard Praetor?"

I could see the hunger for glory in his brown eyes. Muted out of respect for Vaurion but still there. Everyone knew of Arminger's rather blunt reputation in the legion. He was a skilled warrior. I had watched him draw first blood in a duel on Sergeant Alexander, our legion's champion.

But that duel was swiftly finished as Alexander recognized Arminger's prowess with a laugh then proceeded to cut first, second, and third blood in as many seconds.

Still, whispers painted Arminger as rather lacking in tactical vision. It was also no surprise that he had broached this subject. The man was probably hoping for the honor himself. Obviously I knew it would be Vaurion. A campaign of this measure and importance, no one else would be fit to…

" _Captain Skius shall lead the Vanguard."_

* * *

_Everyone froze._

I even found myself paralyzed by surprise. I had no idea Vaurion had planned this. The armor and robes of captains around me rustled. Captains looking to each other to confirm what just happened. This was unprecedented. My first command as a captain, also as a Vanguard leader. The field commander of potentially several thousand legionnaires. Brothers had waited decades for this privilege.

" _I didn't deserve this."_

" _Was I ready?"_

Before any true voice of objection could be given Vaurion spoke again.

" _The command is given,_ " The Praetor let his cape fall from his arm. "We shall strike within twenty four hours. Skius attend, we shall finalize the details in my chambers."

"My lord…" I tried to begin.

He ignored me, "The rest of you, return to your companies. Tomorrow we conquer."

Without another word Vaurion turned to leave the room, Bruis and Khonsu following close behind him. I felt the withering gaze of my brothers upon me, I shifted my gaze nervously between them. None of them spoke. And I could only guess what they were thinking.

Running the same question that I was through their heads.

" _Why me?"_

* * *

While normally our captains were barracked with the rest of their Astartes in mid decks. Some were offered the privilege of separate lodgings. The Praetor was quartered in a small suite of three rooms high on the back of the _Brimming Rays._ His legend and proven might granting him such luxury, as it was.

There was his sleeping chamber. Furnished with only his cot and a few wooden storage modules for his robes. This doubled as his office, with a monstrous slab of metal he called a desk centered like an ancient Terran pyramid. Plus a single cogitator station for all of the information he might require. The second room was Vaurion's armory and arming chamber. Storing his collection of weapons, armor and trophies ready for his selection whenever war called.

Last was the stateroom I currently found myself in. A comfortable space, covered with a thick brown rug insulating the cold deck plating, plus a low table and floor seating for guests. Along with many touches and mementos scattered around that marked it out as Vaurion's home.

Old oath papers fulfilled and laid out on an onyx slab and oaken bench table. Tokens of gratitude from our cousins in several other legions. A pict of himself with Legion Master Antinous, triumphant on some distant world.

But the things that most drew eyes towards them were the grand crystals and striking geodes from every world Vaurion had set foot on. They were reminders he once told me, reminders of the family he left behind as a very young boy when the legion came. His mother had been a geologist. And these rocks gave him some measure of comfort.

I saluted as I stepped through the door. Vaurion returned it in kind at the threshold of his arming chamber.

Master Bruis was kneeling down at the low table pouring himself a measure of the tea before him into a small jade glass. Captain Khonsu had not ventured far into the suite. Keeping close to the right hand side of the door.

I patiently waited with my hands clasped behind my back. Vaurion spoke as he entered his armory.

"Apologies, Captain. But time was in short supply."

The sounds of leather hissing away from edged metal reached my ears. I knew the Praetor was selecting a weapon for the coming battle.

"Your will be done, Praetor." I said without moving an inch. "My life and my death are yours to command."

"We all know who truly holds that right Skius." He solemnly replied.

Master Bruis looked up to me, "You appeared troubled earlier Captain."

He didn't say it like a question, our Diaconus stated it as fact. I grit my teeth and steeled my heart. Of course the man knew, it had been his job for the last fifty years to observe stoic space marines and offer counsel. At my silence Khonsu spoke.

"No one need be a mind reader to see Master Bruis speaks the truth."

I shifted my head to bring the Librarian into my periphery vision.

"If you don't mind, Captain." I asked Khonsu, putting emphasis on his title. "Why exactly are you here. The Dawn Stalkers need no council on how to kill aliens."

"I am here to offer guidance on… Other matters."

I did not like his pause at all. We know no fear, but unknowns were dangerous. And could get good men killed.

So I pressed the issue. "What other matters?"

Khonsu paused looking down at his armored feet. Vaurion returned from his arming chamber.

"I trust Skius," The Praetor said. "Tell him."

The Librarian nodded and finally spoke clear. "Your intelligence list was not entirely complete Captain."

"How so?" I asked. I had read all of the compliance reports and encounter debriefings provided by our direct Crusade commanders. Reports even penned by several Primarchs personally. Why would anything have been omitted?

"My legion has faced the Ra'Chaal as well," Khonsu answered. "Their technological prowess is not the only weapon of the mind they wield."

"Explain."

"World one zero one two, zero nine, we had driven the last of these beings back to their landing ships after crushing the humans who had bought a multitude of weapons and synthetics to combat us. As our army auxiliaries encircled them…"

He paused, deep in memories. His voice was quiet when he resumed. "I find myself searching for the right words, forgive me."

I had an inkling on what the librarian was about to tell me. Khonsu carried on.

"Lashes of psychic power suddenly decimated our comrades. Killing eight of my brothers including two more librarians who had attempted to contain this... Psychic blast."

"You are here for vengeance then?" I asked him.

"I am here to rid the imperium of a dangerous, and very real threat," Khonsu sighed. Remembering brothers fallen was never painless. "Our legion Masters fear the xenos are on the verge of something that they are unprepared for. And could have dire consequences for the galaxy."

The noise of Master Bruis taking a deep draught interrupted the librarian. He turned the glass in his fingers. "And now thrice damned they are."

Bruis looked to me and uttered a single word. "Psykers. Bloody bunch of Psykers gone to ground somewhere in this wretched system."

Of all the things we could have expected to battle here, witch-minds were one of the last things I would have thought of. But suddenly I came to an epiphany.

"Then why aren't we striking at their homeworld? We should burn the whole planet before the creatures can…"

Vaurion stopped me, "Think Skius. All the times the xenos have opposed us and only once have they fought us with psychics."

"My lord. Why does that matter?"

"Captain Khonsu believes this is a merely small sect practicing these skills and I agree. They will be well hidden. I don't want us walking into a potential trap which we have no tactical plan to counter. I spoke truth about the position of their forces, you know this. We have only a small inkling of where they could be hiding. And the more time we waste searching is more time that the witches have to use their powers against us."

"They are strong," Captain Khonsu said. "But I can sense them when they begin their craft. Most likely they will be on their home world. My frigate shall be in high orbit running silent over Ra'Chaal prime. Once we have a location we shall rain fire upon them."

Vaurion held up his empty hands "We draw them."

Then brought them back to his chest. "To us."

I shook my head, "I do not believe this to be a wise decision Praetor. You should lead the echelon to Ra'Chaal prime."

"Noted Captain. But we are not versed in these battle arts. We lack the means."

Khonsu cleared his throat, "So I've heard. I am curious Praetor, is it true? Five thousand Astartes and not a single librarian among you?"

Bruis stood and slowly lumbered up to the taller captain, half a grin on his ebony lips.

"Tell me, twenty Astartes and not a warrior among you?" The Diaconus whispered in riposte.

" _Twenty Astartes?"_ That number turned my stomach. Only twenty to carry out a campaign of xenocide? Even with our numbers and the human armies following us in it seemed a paltry force, bordering on insulting.

Vaurion chuckled, "Leave the poor man be Bruis. But no that's not true."

"Truly?" Khonsu said, evidently surprised. "I thought…"

"It's fifty thousand actually. No Psykers."

Khonsu chose not to answer that. Many outside of the legions could not understand our lack of librarians. Neither did many of our commanding lords. But they had long ago wisely chosen not to second guess our Emperor's grand design. If he had deigned to have our legion bare of any individuals with the gift then so be it. Who were we to question the Master of Mankind?

_Despite the rumors._

All signs of humor faded from Vaurion, "I believe it might be prudent to return to your ship Captain Khonsu. Time grows ever shorter."

The librarian bowed deeply to both men, reading the subtle signs that there was nothing else required of him, "Indeed my lord. Might I leave one of my Sergeants with the vanguard, just in case."

"Very well."

Bringing a fist to his armored chest Khonsu bowed, "Captain, Diaconus, Praetor, tomorrow we conquer."

Vaurion graciously returned the salute. "With the Dawn."

* * *

Once Khonsu left we at last busied ourselves with the invasion's final preparation. Vaurion called us into his office chamber and brought up a tactical scan of Ra'Chaal three. We spent two hours selecting the best place to land and strike, what objectives we would focus on first. Conquering a planet was no small task.

The factories and their never ending stream of munitions. What as far as we could tell were the barracks for the potentially millions strong garrison. Dry-docks, administrative buildings, orbital defense arrays, power distribution centers, air fields. The world was rich in potential targets just as any war world would be.

Vaurion assured me we did not have to restrain ourselves in the slightest during the ground campaign. The Xenos would neither give nor ask for quarter and would we give them none. Some of our brother legions had questioned our rather direct methods in the past, but the Eleventh had never been partial to the path of least resistance.

We finally came to a consensus.

The central export zone on Ra'Chaal three was a continent spanning industrial complex. Six orbital elevators took the fruits of their vile labors and sent them afar. Those were the primary targets that we needed to seize. The Mechanicum would work something useful from their skeletons after we had picked them clean.

I pointed out our ships would be busy dueling their own during the first stages of the battle, fire support would be limited to interceptor strikes. So Vaurion tasked a cruiser and three light cruisers for dedicated bombardment operations. Lances would scour a landing zone clear for the Vanguard, then we would storm the most isolated elevator and secure it as a beach head for the Imperial army following us in.

It would be a tough battle. But one worth remembering.

" _I wished I felt worthy enough to lead it."_

Vaurion pinched the tip of his chin between his right thumb and fore finger, observing the battle lines one last time.

"Your strategy is superb as always my lord," I told him as he faced away from Bruis and myself.

"Our strategy Skius," He replied. "I will not diminish your contribution for my own vanity."

I bowed my head in gratitude even though he could not see it, "Thank you Praetor. May I take my leave to ready the seventh?"

"Of course. But before you go."

He turned and stepped over to his desk, taking up a scrap of folded oil cloth. I heard a small clink of metal as he took it in gloved hand.

He held up the parcel, "It will not do for the Vanguard to not see who their commander is."

" _Kneel."_

Immediately my left knee hit the deck plating in one smooth motion. Listening to Vaurion speak as he unfolded the cloth.

"For valor in battle. For honor in service. Let all who look upon you know. You wear this in service, you _earned_ this through sacrifice."

Light caught the edges of polished metal, and I knew what he held. The golden thunderbolts of the Vanguard.

_My thunderbolts._

I held out my cupped palms and Vaurion placed the mark in my hands. It was heavier than I expected, the long sharpened points looked fit for knives.

"Now, rise Captain," Vaurion commanded. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

* * *

Footsteps followed me down the harshly lit corridor. I knew exactly who they belonged to. And I was grateful to have a moment to talk with Bruis away from the Praetor.

I slowed and allowed him to catch up at one of the many transit elevators reserved exclusively for Astartes.

"Chin up Skius," He said as we waited for the carriage to ascend to our deck, "Your meteoric ascension continues to amaze and inspire."

"Thank you sir," I managed to mutter.

" _So why are you so ashamed?_

The man was nothing if not direct, but I was nothing of the sort. Bruis's words stung.

"I am not ashamed. I am honored beyond words," I told him.

"Meaning you don't want to talk about it."

"No, just…" Finally it felt like a river unblocked in my chest. Bruis had never born any legionnaire ill will and I was not about to let myself fall into the trap of hubris and silence with the Diaconus. That would only make things worse.

I took a deep breath, "I have doubts brother."

"Of the mission? Of our purpose?" He asked.

"Never. Just… Maybe the other Captains are right, I know they think I am wanting in experience. And I just find myself constantly asking if I'm ready for this."

Bruis shook his head and began to laugh. A quiet sound of genuine humor.

His armored gauntlet landed on my right shoulder, "No this is good. Asking of yourself. Skius, you look at everything and consider all possibilities. You have the meticulous mind of a planner and a leader."

Bruis' mailed grip tightened, "So all that remains is to act. Ignore your naysayers. If you lack the experience to do a thing that you can only gain the experience for, by doing that which you are not experienced enough for what of it?"

As the elevator finally arrived Bruis gave me one last pat on my shoulder, "The Praetor trusts you, more importantly I trust you. You will do our legion, and our Primarch proud."

His words gave me comfort. And the hope of seeing our long lost father standing proud and tall before his sons would never fail to lift the spirits of even the most embittered Astartes.

_If all that remained was to act then by the Emperor I would act._

I stepped inside. "Thank you sir."

Bruis nodded, however he still had parting words to offer.

Every battle brother knew this cadence call and response by heart. We woke with it in the mornings and ended the days with it in our minds and on our lips. And we knew someday we would die with it there to.

_The Dawn Stalker's litany of courage._

"Should darkness, be my fate." Bruis almost sang.

"Then let me fall, among the brave." I echoed in return.

" _In battle I shall die."_

" _In righteous glory, I abide."_

* * *

**/**

**/**

**/**

**\- Dramatis Personae -**

_**The XIth Legion, Dawn Stalkers.** _

**Skius Centermerius** \- **Captain Seventh Company**

 **Markus Vaurion -** **Praetor Tenth Echelon XIth Legion**

 **Bruis Le'Scot -** **Legion Diaconus**

 **John Arminger -** **Captain Sixty First Company**

 **Tyr Rameus -** **Captain Thirty Fourth Company**

 **Decius Ryder -** **Sergeant Seventh Company, Echelon Standard Bearer**

 **Medrad Naylor -** **Sergeant Seventh Company Terminator Wing**

 **Pasanius -** **Dreadnought One Hundred Eighty Ninth Company**

_**The XVth Legion** _

**Khonsu -** **Librarian Captain Twentieth Company**

 **Vallo -** **Sergeant Twentieth Company**

_**Imperial Personae** _

**Egli -** **Techpriest**

 **Arteme Read -** **Shipmistress of the _Brimming Rays_**

 **Bryan Kenneth -** **Imperial Army Major**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Well hello again internet.
> 
> (I'm here shamelessly fishing for followers for my other story which this is spun off from.)
> 
> Readers wanted Space Marines, I got you Space Marines. Do you love me again?
> 
> To the uninitiated or informed, it's a long story. This will definitely not be as long as my other project. Which hasn't been cancelled but has just been a little slow. For a multitude of reasons.
> 
> This spin off is set in the warhammer half of my other crossover story, about this legion's primarch. And well I just didn't think it would fit over there. Plus like I said. Shamelessly fishing.
> 
> Any who, I hope you'll stick around. Drop a review if you feel it in your heart. Maybe I can get his done faster as the bulk will probably be violence.
> 
> Anyway, you have a good day regardless of what you do next. And I shall see you all again, relatively soon


	2. Vanguard

**[Mark: -2.11.00]**

\-           **Dawn Stalker’s fleet transitions into the Ra’chaal system. Companies begin staging for deployment to objectives in the outer planetoids.**

\-           **XVth Legion frigate** **_The First Curse_ ** **begins silent operations. Contact with Expedition fleet cut.**

\-           **Vanguard under Captain Centimerius readies for First Strike.**

**////:::::////**

**Thought for the day.**

**_“_ ** **_And when you move fall like a thunderbolt.” – Excerpt from an ancient Terran manuscript on the ways of war._ **

_The servitors worked fast,_

In mere minutes they had completely encased me in my Mark II suit of power armor fresh from the artificer thralls. Gleaming bronze plates as perfect as the day they were forged like they had never seen a day of battle. The heavy ceramite became almost weightless once the machine spirits within were roused and set to purpose.

I stepped away from the arming block one of the lobotomized servants clicked my long black cloak in place on my back. The Enginseer Egli moved into my path, holding up my new crested captain’s helm. Technical it was the same one I had received as replacement eight years ago after an Ork almost clove my skull in two, but the plume of white was just another reminder of my new status and the burden of leadership that had befallen me.

Egli bowed low, “Your warriors await you Captain.”

I had not expected the adept to remain at my side, but Vaurion had given command. And Egli had proven to be more than skilled at maintaining all manner of Legion weapons and equipment in the short amount of time I had seen him work preparing the Vanguard. I took the offered helm up in my left hand pausing for a moment to stare into its red eyes and run my right hand through the transverse plume of white hair running ear to ear on its black mount piece.

“I require your assistance,” I told the adept.

Egli looked up and I tilted my head over to one of the benches lining this deserted chamber indicating the solitary item resting there. My Vanguard mark still in the cloth bundle in which Vaurion had presented it. He quickly stepped over and collected the golden lightning bolts and a look of understanding passed over his features before they disappeared behind the rebreather mask.

He approached again with my mark rising up on two servitor arms extended from the harness on his back. Picking out one of the metal pieces and stowing the other in a belt pouch.

“Any preference?” He asked.

“Along the vox port.”

The techpriest produce a small welding stylus from a holster on his right hip and set to work, small protective shade implants appeared over his eyes and he pressed the thunderbolt to my chest.

Sparks and blinding light filled my vision along with the acrid smell of this process, I donned my helmet sealing the stench and painful display behind the most advanced personal protection system in the imperium.

Once the first bolt was firmly in place Egli set to work on the second. His voice crackled through the rebreather mask.

“Are you expecting much resistance when you land?” He asked me, attempting to start a conversation.

I humored the man, “You were at the briefing.”

“I’m asking you.”

“…Intelligence hasn’t shown any indication the Ra’chaal utilize any Titan class war engines, no matter how many soldiers they can throw at us they cannot stand against Space Marines. We shall attain orbital superiority quickly and once the army begins to deploy at the first elevator it will only be a matter of time.”

He nodded taking up the next bolt, “As you say Captain.”

I thought my chest plate was beginning to warm by the time Egli was finished welding the mark in place. I waited patiently as he cleaned up the burn marks and lowered himself back to the ground.

“Will you be joining us?” I asked him,

He chuckled in response, “Not in the first wave my lord, I get nervous when things try and kill me.”

Egli turned and gave a half bow sweeping his right hand up to present my armory vault. “And your weapon my lord?”

_I still had a hard time considering this collection as mine._

All these weapons mounted to the wall on brass hooks and thin chains or laid out in deep blue velvet, everything here had belonged to my predecessor and mentor Captain Oenomaus. Half a dozen power swords ranging from the short gladius style to a massive two handed broadsword. A solitary chainglaive, a trio of chainaxes. Bolters, rifles and pistols of every variety and pattern, row upon row of razor sharp knives.

The utilitarian chainsword Oenomaus had been issued during his first battle side by side with my own chainsword. The familiarity of that weapon held some appeal for me but my eyes were then drawn to the centerpiece of this priceless collection.

Five blue hued blades nearly the length of my forearm to adorn the wielder’s fingers. Each edge honed to the width of a single atom warded by archaic and nigh-irreplaceable power fields. Form fitting gloves sealable over any armor detailed by brass studs set along the finger bones. The twin pair of lightning claws Captain Oenomaus had born into every single battle since they were gifted unto him by Master Antinous.

_Even though they hadn’t saved him in the end._

“Those.” I told Egli.

Blurts of binary from the techpriest commanded the two loitering servitors over to the weapon racks. Delicately they retrieved the claws from their display and marched back to stand ready before me.

Egli took out his data slate as I reached my hands forward into the black depths of the power gauntlets. A wave of needles passed through my digits when the machine spirits woke and began the bonding.

“The spirits are eager lord,” Egli said studying his data slate, “They have not been active in some time.”

“No they have not.” I confirmed.

The idea of using such a storied weapon when I had not yet proven myself had not sat easily with me.

“ _All that remains is to act…”_

The voice of our Diaconus spoke again at the back of my mind. I lifted the claws free from the servitor’s arms and willed the power fields to light. The air shimmered and the blades began to glow. I stretched out my arms and turned my wrists looking down their lengths bringing my fingers together arcs of energy flew between the blades.

I turned my armored head to look at Egli, “There is a wrist mounted combi-bolter within the vault, I will require ranged capability.”

Egli commanded the servitors again I lowered my right arm down and the servant began its work. The first finished mounting the firearm and moved aside for its compatriot bearing ammunition. I lifted my hand and dry fired the twin barreled weapon at the far wall, satisfied I let the servitor feed in the belt of mass reactive shells and attach more to my waist.

Now fully equipped for violence I headed for the corridor to meet my company who would be finishing their own preparations. Egli quickly dismissed the servitors in binary then followed in my footsteps.

* * *

_One by one, squad by squad, the men of the Seventh Company assembled._

Ranked and ordered in the marshal corridor outside of their barrack chambers. Each and every Astartes eager and ready war plates gleaming beneath the lights one would have needed to stand on a knight’s shoulders to reach.

The ones about to turn and march to the embarkation deck froze and went ramrod straight as I passed in front of their ranks. I nodded to the sergeants who quickly led a crisp salute and then resumed marching warriors to the waiting dropships.

Our whole eight hundred men would not be joining the Vanguard this day, Vaurion had need of some of our brother’s different talents elsewhere. Still followed by Egli I diverted away from the corridor into a side passageway in which lay the Terminator’s ward. The only place in the fleet equipped to service our rare prototype suits of tactical dreadnought armor along with their private weapon vaults. The techpriest took a place in the shadows by these blast doors to wait patiently for my return.

All one hundred bronze Terminators were suited and waiting for their deployment orders, their unmoving crimson eyes fixed forward. Two however were standing out of rank quietly conversing with each other.

Sergeant Ryder the only man present in Mark II power armor still carrying the legion standard. His own wrist mounted combi-bolter locked and loaded and the empty fingers of his power fist idly curling and uncurling.

And beside him was the hulk of an Astartes called Sergeant Naylor. A small percent of our legion tended to grow larger than normal even for our kind, Praetor Vendra of the third Echelon had never looked up to any legionnaire he ever met. And with Naylor’s intricate legion heraldry cradled by eagle wings and crested helmet he had been mistaken for a small Primarch by some of the auxiliary forces we had deployed alongside.

Especially since his weapon of choice was larger than a Space Marine was tall a fact I was quickly reminded of as I walked up to the two sergeants. Eyeing the massive metal studded kanabo war club grounded on Naylor’s left. An unreasonable weapon for anyone lacking the monstrous augmented strength of a Terminator, or a Primarch. And I knew Naylor possessed it having once seen him shatter the leg of an Eldar Wraithlord with that power weapon.

A little of the old familiarity I shared with them as fellow sergeants still remained with the Terminator. I sensed the warmth in his greeting even through the menacing distortion of his vox projectors.

“Skius,” he said with a nod.

It was rather hard to glare at someone while wearing a fully enclosed helmet but Sergeant Ryder managed to pull it off. Cocking his head up at the much larger Astartes at his casual greeting. Naylor’s helmet dipped as he sensed his mistake.

“Apologies _Captain_ ,” he corrected himself. “Your will, our hands.”

With those words he raised up his own hands and clenched them into fists Naylor was eager for a real fight. I waved away his apology some Captains would have reprimanded him for insolence but I was not offended.

“Sergeant Naylor, take your warriors to the assault rams and await further commands from the Praetor. The wing shall be boarding the orbital plates.”

He crashed one fist up in salute, “Very good my lord.”

I did have the choice to simply send the orders down via another sergeant, through the vox or let Vaurion personally give the order. However while respect was still at the heart of our relationships with our brothers we had all been taught the simple values and ways that made those bonds unbreakable.

I tipped my head slightly to Naylor, my purpose here fulfilled I turned on my heels back the way I had come from Ryder raised the standard and followed me. Shouldering his war club with ease Naylor shouted out over the assembled warriors in high gothic, his already deep voice raised up several decibels from his helmet.

“ _Legionnaires Comito!”_

One hundred Terminators turned ninety degrees right in one fluid motion. The deck shook beneath their combined weight as they fell in behind us.

* * *

_This was the most crowded I had ever seen the embarkation deck._

Moving this many Astartes was no small task. The Vanguard today numbered two thousand strong the core of which was composed of my Seventh Company. Absent the one hundred Terminators and another hundred Veterans tasked to guard the flagship and the Praetor,

Packs of servitors and flight crews rushed past the squads of bronze clad warriors waiting to board the titanic Stormbirds being fueled and armed for the flight. The armored support for the Vanguard steadfast Rhinos, rugged Predators, lethal Whirlwinds and unstoppable Landraiders of every variety were being taxied to their carriers.

Roaring engine tests added to the maelstrom of noise as pilots finished off their preflight checks. Showers of sparks rained down through the harsh industrial light from a thousand different welders doing a thousand separate repairs on the legion’s fleet. Armored conveyors driven by our thralls rumbled across the deck past our brothers loaded for bear with hundreds of thousands of spare magazines, bolter rounds, missiles, and replacements for every Astartes pattern weapon.

_Everything we would need to carry out our mission._

“ _General quarters all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill. General quarters…”_

The ironclad voice of Shipmistress Read boomed like the voice of some back world god of thunder rousing her unenlightened flock to war. I let myself smile just a little bit in anticipation, it wouldn’t be long before the Battleship began to shake with the familiar chorus of distant cannons and we would finally begin our mission.

Beneath the starboard wing of the last Stormbird racked and ready to go in this lane two other Captains were awaiting my arrival.

Captain Rameus, helmet balanced on one knee sitting on a large crate of extra bolters leaning almost sleepily against the las cannon propped between his legs. He would be leading the three hundred Space Marines of his heavy support company with us this morning. They would play a familiar role today defending our drop zone, shepherding the artillery pieces and having his signal masters call down the orbital strikes.

And beside Rameus stood Captain Arminger, reaching back over his shoulders like he was trying to itch the jump pack strapped to his armor. His presence did concern me slightly as I knew he had aspirations and was not pleased by my appointment. But if he could put them aside in this battle Arminger and his two hundred Assault Marines would be a welcome addition to our forces.

Egli noticed Arminger’s trouble,

“Is there a problem Captain?” The techpriest asked.

Arminger simply grunted in response, “You tell me Adept.”

The Astartes turned Egli pulled out his data slate and began examining the small rocket booster capable of propelling the Captain’s several hundred kilograms up across the sky.

I was fortunate to have found both men in the same place I had one last pressing issue to attend to before the invasion began. Choosing my second, another Captain to assist me in the battle to come. To offer counsel different strategies and should the need arise take my place in command. I had thought long and hard about this decision.

The logical choice was Rameus, dependable with a keen mind and more experience than most of the other Captains in our Echelon combined. There were even rumors he had turned down the Praetorship of the Fifth Echelon many years ago when Master Antinous made his _Decree Ordinem._

On the other hand despite his attitude and dangerous hubris Arminger would make a fine second. Even if his sense of tactics left much to be desired. Speculation floated around from time to time that somehow a psychotic voice box had gained intelligence and control over his power armor existing only as a malevolent will for violence.

But even a stopped clock was right twice a day. Many Captains respected Arminger and his bravery inspired all who witnessed it.

With a loud snap and a brief burst of sparks, Egli stepped away from Arminger who rotated his arms and spun up the rocket booster briefly.

“You have my gratitude Adept,” Arminger said apparently satisfied.

Cutting to the point I looked back to Rameus, “I require a second for this morning.”

The old Captain picked up his helmet and stood, “We are at your disposal brother.”

_“You can tell John I’d be honored if he’d accept.”_

Rameus smiled and looked to our fellow Captain, Arminger froze visibly surprised even though his features were hidden by his helmet. I did not want any animosity between us, I hoped that my offer would repair any bridges that had been burned yesterday.

_I hoped._

After a tense few seconds however Arminger nodded and brought a fist crashing up to the lightning bolts on his chest, “The honor is mine, Commander.”

_Commander,_

The temporary rank granted to one of our brothers leading any force of multiple companies that wasn’t a Praetor. The gravity of this moment hit me with that one word.

_I was Commander._

Arminger lowered his fist, “The Sixty First is waiting I’ll see you both on the surface.”

“Assuming we don’t get shot out of the sky,” Rameus quipped.

“ _A little flak never killed anyone…”_

It wasn’t the gruff voice of Sergeant Ryder that surprised me with its sudden entrance, I turned to see another man I had not been expecting. Master Bruis and three of his acolytes in training had approached unseen content to let us carry on.

All of them were in their full armor, however with the Dawn Stalker’s traditional colors switched appearing like a legion in black. Bruis held his signature power maul tightly surveying this impromptu gathering of senior Captains.

Bruis’s three protégées not having earned the title Diaconus and the right to their cronzius yet stood with black boarding shields planted on the deck and long power swords sheathed in baldrics on their backs leaving their free hand for bolt pistols.

Captain Rameus smiled again as he donned his own helmet his voice becoming distorted into a menacing mechanical snarl, “Yeah but a lot just might.”

I saluted and bowed forward in courtesy, “What brings you to our humble Embarkation deck Master?”

“I go where I am needed Commander,” Bruis said, “And I believe you have need of me.”

_So he wasn’t here to assume command,_

The Diaconus shifted his gaze onto Captain Arminger who had yet to depart. Suddenly Arminger’s uncharacteristically quiet attitude made sense as he crossed his open palms on his chest in the sign of the aquilla rather than our traditional martial salute for the Diaconus.

“Also,” Bruis continued, “Praetor Vaurion started the mark precisely four minutes ago.”

As if the gunnery officers had the most perfect sense of timing that sound I had been waiting for, the thunder of distant cannon fire rattled the entire ship. The explosive percussion of the macro cannons, the supernova roar of the mighty lance cannons blazing away at the unseen Xenos warships.

The Diaconus gave me a hearty slap on my right shoulder with a sharp crack of ceramite on ceramite, it was time to go.

“Come my brothers,” Bruis said with a laugh heading for the Stormbird, “ _Death is hungry_.”

* * *

 " _Target that escort squadron grid…”_

_“Flight this is six-four! Where’s our…”_

_“Gunners acquire that destroyer he’s heading for the landers…”_

_“Mistress Read we need help! Hangar breach and reactor…”_

_“The kingship is down! Vanguard flight go, go, go…”_

Outside of a crash harness standing just behind our pilots thralls I was subject to the full force of the dropships inertial pull. Bracing myself as best as possible as we burned out of the hangar and aimed straight for the dark planet.

_I had never experienced a sight like this before._

My place as a sergeant had always been in the darkness of the crew compartment with my brothers. I never realized what I had been missing.

I picked out the differing shapes of our own warships and the smaller but much more numerous Ra’Chaal’s spitting death and destruction at each other. Brief stars of fire and molten shrapnel dotted the inky void as fighters by the hundred dove from launch bays on both sides to engage their counter parts. Streaks like meteors illuminated the carnage as our macro cannons tore into enemy ships, thousands of exhaust trails raced back and forth across the viewport as the enemy’s ship killing missiles dove towards our capital ships.

Slowly the orbital plate which was connected to our first target rose out of our line of sight as the pilot began to dip the immense craft into the atmosphere following the silvery stand of the elevator. Chasing the rocket flares of Arminger’s drop pods descending to the battle that waited below.

_Bringing another Ra’Chaal ship in sight_

Our pilot voxed back to the flagship. “Flight this is Vanguard One enemy capital ship moving to block.”

The static filled reply came an instant later. “ _Stand by.”_

I counted the beats of my heart imagining what manner of weapon would end our brief glorious invasion focusing my enhanced eyesight boosted by my visors magnification onto the shape of the ship before us. A snub nosed rectangle that had all edges rounded off decaled with several dull orange streaks like war paint. A blue glow lit the starboard side of the vessel and its rows of turrets turning to track the Vanguard.

Those same features built into my helm immediately darkened my vision when a blinding flash of light stabbed into the side of the Ra’Chaal ship. The _Brimming Rays_ main lance batteries covering our approach. The beam of energy persisted for another two heartbeats blasting through whatever defenses the other ship had and carving its guts wide open, blooms of short lived fire and clouds of debris and Xeno crew spilled out into space moments before the entire ship exploded.

_“Confirmed ship kill, Vanguard One you are clear for atmosphere insertion.”_

The pilot adjusted his controls one last time, “Solid copy Flight.”

He voxed again, “Kukri, Tanto, Bowie squadrons form up and lead us in.”

A flurry of acknowledgements came in from the chosen interceptor leaders, no fear in their voices as they drew up in a wedge in front of us. Fire already splashing across the noses of their vessels their task to guard us from any air assault as the sacrificial shield for our armada of dropships.

The Stormbird shuddered from the afterburners lighting, squeezing every last ounce of speed from the venerable engines to resume pursuit of the drop pods and now the interceptors in a sheer dive. However the gentle rumble of the ship accelerating soon turned violent as several more lance beams stabbed through space nearly clipping our ship passing through the net of interceptors.

My visor dimmed again the bombardment ships were cutting it close scouring our drop zone, we would be taking our first steps on glass it would seem. A petal of flame bloomed at the impact point on the surface below us on the edge of the retreating darkness of night.

* * *

  _Dawn Stalkers_

We earned our name many years ago. A name drawn from the tactics of our first recruit’s forefathers and their favored strategy of the dawn raid. Letting their enemies rest in the safety of their homes and strongholds only to come screaming out of the night with the rising sun at their backs in a frontal assault just when the enemy had relaxed and let all their imagined beasts and foes slip back into the shadows of their minds instead of the shadows just beyond their torches.

Even before those long dead warriors adopted this way of war armies across history had carried out a traditional stand to when light finally broke over the horizon. Just in case their enemy attempted such a strike. Our ancestors had known this practice very well, and showed again and again that once they crested the horizon there was nothing that could stop them.

_Until the Emperor came with his Thunder Warriors._

The cone of fire across our own nose subsided, to my surprise the sprawling Xeno hive I beheld seemed rather Human. Nothing struck me as particularly alien in design, this place could have been mistaken for any number of humanity’s lost colonies. Smooth edged white and grey bulky skyscrapers with wide opaque glass planes angles drawing in the eye with their simple elegance.

_Scorched, melted and blown to pieces by the lance strikes._

Vast open lanes between the monoliths for the Ra’Chaal’s traffic scattered with trees, small benches shielded against the elements by glass huts now displaying red alien script warning the populace of our arrival. Distant plumes of exhaust from the manufactorums drifted over the pale morning sky as light found its way into the hive.

_Cut with flashes of light as the planets laser defense grid finally began to retaliate._

Jet trails from the Xeno fighter craft shaped like arrow heads launched from other ships in atmosphere or hidden airfields coming straight for our fighter screen. I was tempted to get closer and observe the opening dogfights however our co-pilot looked back over his shoulder to me.

“Thirty seconds till touch down my lord.”

_It was time._

“Keep the engines hot,” I commanded, “Don’t leave the drop zone unless summoned.”

I did not want to put our only means off of this rock at needless risk. Mistress Read was a fine naval tactician, with the Ra’Chaal flagship destroyed and our efforts on the ground to black out their communications the enemy would be in disarray and easy prey for the expedition fleet once our ships heading to the system edge doubled back and hit their flanks.

But I was also a pragmatist at heart, hope for the best plan for the worst. Starting a countdown in my head I returned to the Stormbird’s hold.

Master Bruis had spent the flight down walking amongst the rows of our brothers locked into place scanning for any sign of unease, but the Seventh Company remained undaunted. They were not hiding their nonexistent fear from the Diaconus, his presence simply provided an example.  Bruis quickly turned gathering up his white cape as I stepped past him to the still sealed doors.

_Three… Two… One…_

* * *

Spinning gears and shifting pistons broke the airtight seal around the assault ramp behind me brothers unbuckled themselves and took their weapons in hand. Light spilled in through the widening gap along with a blast of hot air and the sound of many roaring engines.

This would be the eighth world I had set foot on but in many other ways it was the first.

My first as Captain, my first as Commander,

I knew I had to mark this moment, both in my mind and with words to my waiting men.

_To prove to them I was ready for this…_

I turned back to the waiting warriors opening up the vox link to the entire company. Offering brave words and a raised lightning claw.

“For our absent father! For our beloved Emperor! Brothers, this fight is what you were born for!”

From the front row of Space Marines on its golden staff our standard was raised. Sergeant Ryder holding high our rising sun his own deep baritone voice leading the chorus of our cry for war.

“For the Emperor!”

Roaring chainblades and a hundred different howling voices echoed the Sergeant in a single raging storm.

“ _For the Emperor!”_

* * *

The land of my childhood was a very cold place our years blanketed by endless snows even in the atomic blasted bio-sphere of Terra. Mornings after an especially cold spat the snow and ice would crust the ground. I remembered how my boots would crunch through this solid layer onto the ground beneath oddly pleasurable in that way of young children drunk on the experience that was life.

I was reminded of that sensation the moment my power armored boots hit the dirt, like walking on a field of mirrors every boots step crackled with sound and a brief moment of resistance before I hit the unyielding ferrocrete.

Astartes followed their Sergeants, and the Sergeants followed their line Captains who reverently looked to the senior Captains for guidance over the rim of the blast site and onto untouched earth piling into their rhinos and landraiders. Outrider's on jet bikes, and assault marines formed up into scouting skirmisher packs. Quad mortars were wheeled from the Stormbirds and set up beside the square of Whirlwinds already training their launchers in every direction loosing hunter killer missiles up at unseen fighter craft. Brothers with more heavy weapons of the Thirty Fourth company stood sentinel along the still glowing steaming rim of our landing site the length and width of four old Terran city blocks.

Quickly I began cycling through the vox frequencies sorting out separate links to individual officers, ships above us, artillery behind us and the tanks beside us.

I opened a channel to Arminger, “Captain take your company along the conveyor lines bear east and hit the right flank of our target.”

His response was prompt, “It shall be done Commander.”

Two hundred men lit their jetpacks and took to the sky after their Captain beating his crescent bladed power ax against the adamantium slab of his combat shield in an almost tribal display whipping his men’s blood up. Amidst the sea of bronze however I spotted a solitary figure in plain gunmetal power armor with the red crest of a Sergeant leap to the sky on wings of fire after the rest of the company.

_Khonsu’s Sergeant I presumed._

Next I voxed to Rameus, “Tyr mobilize the armor groups along the main tram lines and fall on the left flank of the elevator.”

Ahead I saw the old Captain turn, shoulder his las cannon and raise an empty fist clearly signaling his affirmation in battle sign. Finally I opened links to my hand picked squads across the moving mass of the entire Vanguard.

“Brothers what is the shortest distance between two points?” I asked my chosen.

Ryder tapped his powerfist gingerly to his breast plate, “A straight line Commander.”

I smiled behind my helmet, “Indeed.”

_Frontal assault with the sun at our backs._

Waypoints and coordinates appeared on their own heads up displays and my warriors immediately broke into the ground eating pace beaten into all of our recruits from their earliest days.

Ryder let the standard sway in the wind, I looked back over my shoulder to the Diaconus and his acolytes.

“Master Bruis?”

He saluted, “After you Skius…”

* * *

The ground levels of the looming buildings were large enough for our Landraiders to smash through unhindered, tracks grinding up the polished marble floors ramming straight through the decorative pillars crushing everything in their way.

Rhinos and we on foot followed in their ruinous wake sweeping the gutted structures for any Xenos. The first I saw was an unarmed group of several dozen running for their lives to the west desperate to escape our wrath.

They were exactly as the diagrams had said, green scaly skin a black knot of hair atop their heads, but garbed in a colorful assortment of light tunics and trousers. They bled purple I discovered as a squad of Astartes turned their bolters on them the garments they had no match for the high explosive shells.

Half were gunned down without mercy or pity, not the first Ra’Chaal to die this day and they certainly would not be the last. But one of Bruis’s shield bearer acolytes in black stepped up and pushed the barrel of the Sergeant’s bolter down. I was close enough to hear his words,

_“Do not waste your ammunition brothers. Wait for proper foes.”_

We found those foes past the next skyscraper we pushed our way through identifying armed Xenos lining the open balconies of the next building in our way like some feudal world warriors on the ramparts of their castle.

I estimated there were at least two companies of infantry yet none of the expected synthetics, all were protected in what looked like light flak armor with open faced helms. Pointing a myriad of carbines, light machine guns, rocket launchers, and heavy energy weapons at the armored fronts of our Landraiders.

I opened the vox, “Forward!”

Heavy bolters and las cannons ripped into their ranks covering our approach, soldiers and metal exploded beneath the combined weight of fire. I broke into a run with the rest of my brothers closing the gap into melee.

Several of the Xeno soldiers threw small discs down at their feet, suddenly shields of cyan light sprung into being. Swallowing the high energy las cannon shots and letting bolter rounds explode harmlessly. But while they were safe from our ranged attacks the Xenos were perfectly capable of shooting at us.

Their small arms fire reached an unbelievable crescendo of high rate of fire weapons spat thousands of bullets at our front ranks. Nothing but the luckiest of shots could do more than annoy an Astartes with their small caliber, but the real threat of their own energy cannons and missile weapons quickly turned away from the Landraiders and down to us.

Brothers stumbled and fell when struck by the pale orange beams, arcing grenades magnetized to our armor before detonating. The missiles managed to get off a single volley sending more of us falling to the ground. My warriors parted around fallen brothers in an orderly fashion as we charged. To my relief none that I saw seemed to be dead, but blood still called out for blood.

“ _Rockets!”_

Each Astartes bearing our own heavy weapons heard my voice went to one knee and let loose our own volley back at the entrenched enemy. Over their hard-light shields then bursting in deadly clouds of shrapnel in their midst.

The groan of tortured metal and cracking ferrocrete hit my audio receptors the makeshift alien fortress had enough of our punishment. The balcony they were firing from suddenly gave way along with much of the floor beneath them.

Sergeant Ryder was the first upon them still holding our standard high as he leapt up the makeshift ramp and swung his powerfist. Their shields offered no resistance to the Sergeant’s body or to his gauntlet which swung through and caved in a Ra’Chaal chest with enough force to penetrate tank armor, coating his bronze plates with purple gore.

Chainblades roared and power weapons crackled to life as the slaughter began.

I made my first kill as our front and second ranks broke into their formation’s heart. I swung my right claw up slicing one of their soldiers into pieces like a hunk of meat in a deli, the energized talon passing through the Xeno like he wasn’t even there.

Stepping on and over bodies we killed and killed and killed blades rose and fell like machines, point blank bolt shots tore through bodies spraying the air with blood we drove them back all the way to the far side of this level.

Another Xeno threw down another disc shield in my way brandishing a sub-machine gun and some pattern of revolver. Its partner to the left hefted one of their larger energy projectors slowly building up a charge. These two were different from the other foot soldiers I noted, equipped with fully enclosed helms with t-slit visors, heavier armor and some form of device radiating heat at the small of their backs

Blue bolts of light hammered into my chest plate and a large caliber slug rocked my helmet back as the creature shot me in the face. It should have been aiming for the weak points of my armor to slow me down. I enlightened him of this mistake by stabbing my left talon through its stomach, servos in my armor whined as I lifted the corpse up to block the laser shot fired an instant after I made this kill.

The dead alien exploded into pieces and I pressed forward to kill the other before it could get another shot off. Seeing all of its allies brutally butchered and knowing it was next this being decided that discretion was the better part of valor, spinning back and extending its left arm out shooting a grapple claw away with a long length of cable to pull its unclean self out of harm’s way through the window shattered by stray bolt rounds.

But it had just turned its back on a Space Marine, and that mistake proved to be fatal.

In the blink of an eye I swung both claws down on the Xeno’s and reduced the soldier to a pile of purple stained bits that bore little resemblance to any living being. The grapple still connected with its target however, pulling the no longer attached arm free of the carnage we had so quickly wrought upon them.

One last creature scrambled back on its rear clicking an empty sidearm at the implacable form of Master Bruis. Our Diaconus was laughing at the things futile gesture, the Xeno’s eyes were blank and its hand was shaking like it kept trying to conjure bullets into the pistol. Bruis stepped forward and then brought his right boot straight down onto the Ra’Chaal’s skull squishing it like a ripe purple melon against the ground.

He turned back raising up his power maul with a shout of triumph, “Ha! A good start!”

Brandishing our bloodied weapons high we all gave a united _Hau_ for our actions and the Diaconus. Sergeant Ryder leapt down onto the next street ever first into the fray, the building shook again as the Landraiders resumed their crawling pace into the ground floor.

An icon flashed in the upper left corner of my visor I stopped on the balcony and opened the link. The familiar face of Praetor Vaurion expanded out,

“Commander what is your progress?” He requested,

Master Bruis stopped beside me no doubt keying into this conversation. I cleared my throat and spoke, “En-route and on schedule we will begin our attack within the hour.”

Vaurion nodded, “Excellent, be advised multiple Ra’Chaal ships taking position in low orbit over the elevator. And they have launched dozens of small objects at the surface, impact timed to coincide with your strike.”

“Ordinance?” I asked, “Are they going to deny us with orbital fire?”

“Not likely the theoretical is drop pods, and we are rather busy up here...”

“Understood Praetor.” I said before cutting the link, Vaurion couldn’t stop them in time it would come down to the Vanguard on the ground.

* * *

“ _Rameus what is your position?”_

_“Three minutes out Commander.”_

_“Arminger, status…”_

I could hear the rumble of the approaching drop pods, the quiet shifts of restlessness from the men crouched beside me and the ticking energy coils of their many weapons.

_But I did not hear Arminger._

I opened his vox frequency again, “Respond Captain, that’s an order…”

Again my demand for information was met with only static, the Xeno drop pods would hit any minute and I couldn’t let them dig in. We could easily overwhelm the security forces stationed at the elevator, Rameus would engage the second he could but I needed Arminger to hit their rear and divide their attention rather than just grind all their power against us.

_“John where in the name of the Emperor are you?”_

_Time was up._

I had to assume my second was dead. I had to fulfill my oaths and storm this facility so the Imperial army could land in force and take over the brunt of the work ahead of us. For my Praetor, for my brothers…

“Captain Rameus give me everything you have from the mortars and the artillery,” I commanded, “Single volley maximum suppression spread on the Xenos on my mark.”

“Yes Commander.”

My men were crouched by the battle scarred Landraiders awaiting my word, I twitched one talon to Ryder.

“Pass the word, prepare to charge.”

At my side Master Bruis gestured to a black clad acolyte pointing his power maul at me. Bolters and rocket launchers were reloaded. I looked up to the bright morning sky, glowing spots like falling stars drew closer. I started to move toward the front rank.

No words leapt to mind to inflame their hearts and already boiling blood. So I took a page out absent Arminger’s book.

“ _Rameus, Mark.”_

It took me four steps to reach a full sprint,

Two more for the others to realize what I was doing.

After another step I heard the scream of incoming rockets.

The eighth and the ninth carried me up to the black glass I crossed my arms and tucked in my legs as I jumped through the glossy pane not pausing to watch the shards fall and crumble.

I took my tenth in the wide open plaza leading up to the black steel cage of the ground station.

Four more thunderous steps hit the ground before the small cylindrical drop pods crashed down.

One more and they were already opening and I beheld those spectres of soldiers the Ra’Chaal had sent against the finest warriors Humanity had ever produced. The first one I saw were small, concealed in the smoke screen dumped by the pods for cover. Hard angular limbs of unpainted steel with a fat body covered in webbing for ammunition and a score of weapons I had seen earlier in the hands of the Xeno’s we had put to the sword.

The single upright rectangular photo receptors in their wedge shaped heads recognized the threat of my presence raising up their weapons preparing to gun me down.

My right foot over took my left again, a dozen airburst missiles fulfilled their purpose and tore the mechanical legion to pieces sending ripples of ferrocrete out like a hailstorm of knives. Explosive shots landed in their sundered ranks making geysers out of bodies’ and blackened debris.

Left thudded ahead of right, more stationary shields projected from the short cylindrical drop pods came to life far too late to ward their automated passengers from the artillery strike linked by sturdy cables shooting out to hit their counterparts on the other pods.

_A perfect step to send myself flying into the dead center of these abominations._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes experience my writing pace of a snail overdosed on dental anesthesia,
> 
> Chapter was almost gonna be longer but I think I wrote in enough fake endings in this already in this grand experiment of perspective and narrative. Plus, well I think I left enough clues for some to see a thing I am doing. But will probably be more obvious next chapter
> 
> So anyway Share if you care, Review as you do, I got school work to take care of so sorry don't expect a new chapter anytime soon.
> 
> As you were


	3. Crusaders

**[Mark: 1.54.44.]**

\- **Vanguard engaged at first objective. Contact lost with 61** **st** **Assault Company.**

\- **Secondary deployments encountering minimal resistance, enemy cohesion faltering after destruction of alien flagship.**

\- **[BDA - preliminary estimates of enemy casualties; 543,898 Xeno combatants slain.]**

\- **[375** **th** **Expedition fleet casualty estimates – 15,241 fleet personnel KIA, 34,000+ injured "(Data attached.)]**

\- **[XIth Legion reports- 36 dead, 88 combat ineffective.]**

**=::: Logicae Strategium deems loses… Acceptable;::=**

**\+ Astropath Choirs report growing interference with long range communication. *Noted for further consideration, investigation postponed by command of Praetor Vaurion***

**\+ No situation report from** **_The_ ** **_First Curse_ ** **as of current Mark Will provide update at the end of next standard Terran day\\\\\\\\\\\\\**

**/:::::/**

**Thought for the day.**

**_"_ ** **_There are no ifs my brothers. Never underestimate your enemy, or yourself." – attributed to Legion Master and First Diaconus Antinous, Eleventh Legion Astartes._ **

* * *

_This was not a military base._

Everything was too neat, to pretty. There were minimum security checkpoints and no static defenses. The walls were not fit to hold off anything other than the elements, and every single one of them had already been shattered by stray gunfire from the melee that had just taken place on the front marble steps.

The Seventh company had swiftly smashed aside the robotic horde as they deployed from their drop pods. Wading through scrap and spilt hydraulic fluids piling beneath our boots, larger combat frames had emerged from the center of the formation much stronger and taller than their little cousins of metal yet fatally lacking in hand to hand skill as we quickly discovered.

Their weapons still took a toll, heavier patterns of laser weapons and shotguns that spat short range plasma blasts managed to land lucky shots and down legionnaires but it was too little too late.

The only real threat were the largest hulking Automatas, synthetic bipedal walkers similar to our own Castellax-class auxillaries. Taller than an Astartes by half, the same wedge design of the foot soldier's heads applied to their entire frame. Wreaths of energy wrapped around the powerclaws of their hands from which screamed blue bolts of plasma which we were not keen to learn how much damage could cause to even our armor.

I put my right claw through the red bars of one's photoreceptor eye up to the wrist, twisting the mono edged blades deep inside the wires of its guts. Severing the thick hose tendons of its short right arm with my left. Holding up the slowly dipping carcass as it lost power with sheer brute strength.

_Until a well-aimed lascannon shot peeled open its hulk in a ball of fire._

The rumbling might of the Thirty Fourth company swept into the fray, heavy weapons knocking the automata down never to rise again with precision fire sailing over the heads of the Dawn Stalkers locked in combat. And so with their heavy support eliminated this fight was as good as over.

I slowly paced through the abandoned atrium of the orbital elevator as battle brothers swept through looking for more things to kill. It reminded me of the civilian transit stations of Luna. An idyllic place to lie to settlers and bureaucrats about what type of universe they were about to embark into.

Frescos carved into smooth polished black rocks along the walkways in the stunningly white building depicted the cut down history of the Ra'Chaal's space program. Motivating scenes to raise the spirits of those creatures that got to leave this rock for the stars beyond.

I ignored it all, the shadows of Ryder and Bruis joined my own as we neared the opposite end of the elevator base, where Captain Arminger should have been. A vox link snapped open in my ear, one of the squad leaders reporting.

 _"_ _Captain, large enemy contact at the reflecting pool."_

Dozens of the Xeno's arrowhead dropships were landing in the shallow water of the three kilometer mirror pool that when undisturbed would hold the image of the space elevator towering over head. But they were not landing troops,

_They were picking up the survivors,_

It made sense now, the synthetics had been sent to stall us while theses Xenos fled from our wrath. They had no intention of fighting for this place. Hundreds of their soldiers and the elevator staff splashed through the waters squeezing into tight crew compartments stumbling up the ramps that dropped down from the port, starboard, and rear ends of these crafts.

But we were not about to let them just fly away, brothers bearing rocket launchers were already lining up at the pristine bay windows lined with bracing black bars aiming their heavy weapons. We would at least be able to bring down a few of the fleeing craft.

I was about to give the command to let the missiles fly when Master Bruis raised up his power maul,

" _Hold fire!"_ He shouted over an open channel.

"Master?" I asked the black armored Astartes.

Bruis pointed the weapon over to the east and the alien sun cresting over the buildings,

_Pointing to the squads of assault marines scrambling over the flat rooftops._

Distance and roaring jump packs swallowed their battle cries when the tardy Sixty First leapt into the sky. One figure stuck out to me at the front of this pack, brandishing a power ax and combat shield. With the glowing light flickering off the Mark of the Vanguard on his chest.

A helmetless Captain Arminger.

The dropships began to rise into the sky detecting the approaching Astartes abandoning the Xeno's yet to reach them to their fate on the ground. But this desperate move was too late to save any of them Arminger wasn't targeting the stragglers, he was going straight for the dropships.

The Xeno's craft listed violently as suddenly thousands of kilograms of extra weight crashed down onto their hulls. Arminger landed behind a sloping glass canopy and smashed his ax down through the thick void sealed panes and into the pilot, the ship went blasting forward as the dying throes of the pilot sent it out of control. Marines landed on the other ships and hammered their weapons into vulnerable points sending up flares of fire and smoke hurling krak grenades and melta bombs at weapons ports and exhaust systems. One brave warrior hung down by one hand from the tail of Arminger's craft and let loose into the overcrowded hold with a hand flamer.

As the dying ships lost altitude the daring assault marines leapt to others yet untouched to bring the same fate down on them. A few of my men laughed pounding empty fists against their chests in salute to the sight before them.

But there was still work to be done, I opened the vox again, "Kill the rest."

Squads advanced down the white steps bolters blazing at the Xenos left behind and scrambling away from the wrecks, turning the pristine water into a purple soup of bloody shattered bones and armor. Dropships crashed down and exploded sending waves spilling out over the lips of the pool. Slowly the terrified screams of the soon to be dead were silenced. Assault marines floated down from the sky on top of their unorthodox kills, laughing to each other and waving their weapons threateningly at the single Xeno ship that managed to escape.

I made my way to the edge of the reflecting pool which rose up to my knees I saw Arminger weaving his way through the troops.

_He owed me an explanation._

Arminger bowed when he came up to the edge of the water, "Commander."

But I was not about to let such a feat go unnoticed, "Well done John, your audacity knows no bounds."

"Thank you brother."

"I only wish it had carried you here sooner…"

Arminger bristled, I saw his teeth bared for half a second as he turned his head to the left. Revealing the blackened mess of the right side of his head behind that ear. That ear which was now missing.

"Apologies," The Assault captain rumbled his voice held no hint of regret only anger, "I was a little busy dodging beam cannons and hacking my way through these synthetics."

"You're my second, you need to remain in contact no matter how the battle goes."

"Well there's more than one bloody vox in the Sixty First Commander."

 _…_ _That thought had not occurred to me,_

"If you don't respond when summoned I am forced to make certain assumptions." I told him. "You may have put the entire campaign at risk."

"There's your problem Commander," He growled back, "Assuming."

Arminger was undoubtedly irked, he stepped out of the waters and came chest to chest with me. I refused to show intimidation, holding fast before the bigger warrior.

_Betting on some form of reason staying his hand._

Arminger blinked first.

"Sergeant Vallo!" He called out, "Are you dead?!"

A metallic twisted voice call out from the wreckage behind us, "Not yet my lord."

Arminger shifted left, taking his power axe into his hand bound to his kite shaped combat shield, "Come then and make something of yourself!"

I did not recall the name Captain Arminger called out, after a heartbeat however it was clear who it belonged to. I recognized the unpainted shining grey armor of the fifteenth legion Sergeant Vallo was clad in having seen it earlier this morning, and on Captain Khonsu hours ago.

Vallo waded close flicking engine fluids from his chainsword's teeth before planting the tip on the bottom of the reflecting pool and going down to one knee. "It is an honor Commander Centermerius,"

I gave him a nod in response, before I could plie him with questions Arminger turned his charred head to me.

"Bruis told me of the psykers and why Vallo's here. But he has not yet made mention of any… Signs."

Having Captain Arminger in the loop made things much simpler, I spoke to the Sergeant and beckoned him to rise with a flick of my claws, "Tell me Legionnaire, has my second spoke truth?"

_Arminger shifted uncomfortably at my request for confirmation, and my doubting him._

"Indeed my lord," Vallo said rising to his feet, "I have noted nothing that could not been seen with mundane eyes."

"Very well, yet if you do inform me immediately."

"Yes Commander."

There were often pauses in battle like this, little moments of tranquility in between the heart stopping jolts of violence and bloodshed when one could take a moment to stop and breathe readying for the next fight. They were not as jarring for we built for combat Astartes but we still noted when they happened. Seconds ticked by with we three standing there waiting for someone to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Well then," I finally began, "I believe the army is waiting for our signal."

Arminger huffed, "Not that they'd be so displeased to let us take all the glory, and the danger."

* * *

The vox in my helmet suddenly crackled to life.

 _"_ _Skius! Respond immediately!"_

Vaurion's tone commanded a hasty response, I did not recognize the sound in his voice suddenly blaring through my vox.

"Praetor? I hear you."

"Get your men to cover, now!" The Praetor ordered. "They've launched another object."

I flicked my lightning claw back to the elevator steps, signaling fall back in battle sign. The Sixty First lit their jetpacks and flew overhead for the rest of the vanguard. Arminger broke into a run at my side, with Sergeants Vallo and Ryder behind keeping pace with Master Bruis and his shield bearer acolytes.

"Is it another drop pod?" I asked, if so I questioned Vaurion's command. Why this response contacting me directly for only a single pod.

Vaurion spoke again, almost in a whisper, "Skius, its approach is ballistic."

_Ballistic, out of control, not meant to land._

_The velocity of a missile._

_This was a trap._

I opened my vox projector's as loud as I could, " _Run, double time!"_

The weapon was coming down, I felt the skin on the back of my neck begin to crawl, hearing the distant thundering rumble of the sound barrier breaking before it. Our command group managed to pound up into the gutted elevator complex but deep inside my heart I knew it would not be enough. If that missile was packing an atomic payload there was no way we could get far enough away fast enough. We should have foreseen such a strike coming, we had forced these animals into a corner and they must have sensed their impending extinction and resorted to the most extreme counter measure they had at their disposal.

Which didn't make sense, they must have known despite our power we were far outnumbered in this opening battle. In their inexperience and arrogance of battling the Imperium a counter attack from the land or air was considered the most likely possibility. Especially that deploying capital weaponry would destroy their invaluable foundries and orbital elevators.

We had underestimated their resolve, yet none of those fleeting ideas mattered anymore. Our only hope of surviving this strike was to get to cover, but this was not a military facility.

Arminger almost found some morbid humor in this attack, grinning and chuckling before he spoke, "I'm honored these filthy creatures consider us such a threat brothers."

"Silence," I growled back then voxed the Praetor, "Impact?"

 _"_ _Four seconds…"_

_It would not be enough._

For a moment I lamented my fortune, thinking some force in the universe had decided to balance the scales of my quick ascension with an equally expedited death. But there were no such unseen hands guiding my destiny,

 _"_ _In battle I shall die,"_

A simple fact of existence as an Astartes, there was no way for us to meet our end but that of a warrior's death.

 _"_ _In righteous glory, I abide."_

I stopped running, skidding on the rubble strewn floor while I turned to face the reflecting pool. The bright fiery comet sailing down drew a bright line down from low orbit across the lake of carnage and scrap.

The others noted my stance but carried on, they would defy the treacherous alien tactic to the end in their own way. But I chose to face my death with honor.

_Two, One…_

* * *

There was no explosion.

No fire of atoms splitting apart with the primal fury of a miniature supernova. The ground shook from a heavy impact rattling glass and flaking debris from the walls of the elevator base. But the Vanguard yet lived, I clicked my vox once drawing the attention of the Sixty First and my chosen squads again, signing them forward with caution.

Dust billowed up in waves from whatever had come down from the sky, I filtered through vision modes trying to get a picture of what was waiting for us. I noticed the blue glow first,

An eerie light sifting through the dust storm, one of the Xeno's energy shields I surmised. A tall domed energy field protecting another Automata.

A machine much larger than the frames we had faced in the drop pod force, but estimating its height proved difficult. The Automata was down on one metallic knee, clutching an appropriately sized belt fed chaingun by the barrel while the butt balanced on the ground in its four clawed left hand.

White armor plates covered much of its humanoid body in rounded curves leading to joints and shoulders that ended at hard angles next to the rounded center mass studded with charred ports like maneuvering thrusters. A single circular vision port quietly scanned its surroundings, giant pouches hung from its chest what they contained was anyone's guess. The machine remained immobile as Astartes lined up, revving their chainblades aiming their bolters and missile launchers. Experience stayed their hand with how futile we knew it would be to fire on the shield.

"Hold," I commanded my men, Captain Arminger, Master Bruis, his acolytes and several squads of Assault Marines began to circle around. Sergeant Ryder planted the standard at my side driving the killing spike on the end deep into the steps below, leaving the proud sun standing and freeing up the sergeant's hands.

Air and heavy pistons hissed as the machine began to move, bolters came up preparing to fire the instant that shield dropped or charge in if it didn't. It did not move with violent purpose, the mechanical beast dipped its empty right hand down between its legs.

Something slid into the waiting palm,

I almost didn't believe my eyes, but I realized there was a figure now grasped in the palm of the Automata's hand. Imperfectly invisible like light bent around it's body, I knew it was one of the Xeno's. With that cloak it had somehow stealthed its way through the circle of Marines to this thing.

The machine started to stand, lifting its Ra'Chaal charge up to its broad chest. Two hatches swung open like the great maw of some death world predator and the machine placed the Xeno within its body. At the last moment the cloak failed revealing one of the more heavily armored aliens with an enclosed helm like I had witnessed at our first encounter on the surface.

The hatch closed and the Automata stood tall readying its weapon.

_Not an Automata I realized, more like a Knight._

_And that Xeno was its pilot._

* * *

_"_ _John! It has a pilot!"_

My second nodded, "I saw that Commander… That thing is off balance, I'd wager we've angered the creature."

Inside the shield the walker rose up on two feet, it had to be almost six meters tall. The Xeno Knight turned to its right taking in the slaughter we had wrought on the evacuation, I knew Captain Arminger was correct if this thing had come down all on its own this was personal. It may have taken offense to our merciless culling of the evacuees, as if rules of honor were even a consideration with these creatures. Or more likely I hypothesized we had killed some of its kin, or even a mate.

And now it was about to throw its life away in a fruitless attempt at vengeance.

The blue dome winked out of existence.

With a burst of red thrusters the Knight shot out to the right its feet sparking across the ferrocrete, dodging the first volley of bolt shells and missiles. Assault marines boosted out of the way to avoid being crushed. Dozens of weapons shifted tracking the walker, I fired my first shots from my wrist mounted combi bolter this day at the looming machine. Mass reactive shells exploded against its armor, I saw flickering fields of energy in between the bursts of shrapnel this walker had some sort of automatic shielding. But it wouldn't have dodged the first volley if we could not hurt it.

The massive chaingun swept down and returned fire, heavy armor piercing munitions detonated down in the Assault squads swarming around its ankles pumping fire up into unarmored areas. Three marines were brought down in bloody sprays as the alien rounds struck home.

I raised up one claw back to the heavy weapons, "Rockets!"

As back blasts of fire erupted over shoulders I knew this wasn't dodging away again.

_Instead it boosted right into the path of our rockets._

Surrounded once again the left hand came up into our line of fire, curls of blue energy swirled around its flat fingers summoning a massive vortex of energy stopping our bolt shells and missiles in midair the munitions spinning like a school of bright fish spurting exhaust trails. The Knight continued to fire its weapon single handedly in a T pose.

Arminger hacked his power ax down at the walker's leg, it kicked out at him like it was shooing away a rabid dog. The nimble Assault Captain barely managing to turn away from the lethal force of the blow in time.

Two off hand weapons sprouted from its back on very thin connector arms, rectangle like instruments laced with the universal red capped cone shaped heads of rockets. One dipped down at the Assault Marines.

The other pointed right at me.

_Crested helms, ornate armor and billowing capes drew attention to a warrior. Singling out commanders in the press of uniform armor. Some thought it foolish to wear such garb preferring their officers to hide in that anonymity._

_Cowards thought like that._

_Astartes did not._

" _Down!"_

Instantly Marines dove for cover, ducking behind pillars and rushing to the flanks. I broke into a run hoping to get beneath the weapon's firing arc before it was unleashed. And to spare my brothers from its attack I knew was directed at me. The machine's vision port flicked back to the squads behind me and it turned its outstretched hand up.

Its finger's flexed.

The rocket pods fired.

And all the stolen bolts and missiles flew back at the Marines who had fired them, I did not see the carnage that followed behind me.

Focusing entirely at the one rocket coming screaming at my face, in the middle of another step I knew I could not dodge it. Instead I swung both claws up, shredding the alien projectile before it could blow my head off. Instinct ducked my head down behind my forearms, blocking the explosion that followed an instant later.

Heat and pressure smashed against my Mark II plates but I didn't break stride. Shooting this thing down with our weapons on hand was no longer a sound strategy. One of Bruis's acolytes primed a melta bomb and prepared to make a throw.

The towering walker sensed the danger pivoted and aimed its chaingun low, the black armored Marine raised up his boarding shield blocking the deadly burst. The Knight brought up a fist and fired its thrusters again, amplifying the massive kinetic force behind the rail driver punch coming down.

The acolyte dropped his shield to hurl the bomb at the worst possible moment catching the Knight's fist square in the chest.

Ceramite shattered and blood sprayed out of the cracks in his armor, the acolyte was dead before his feet even left the ground and his melta bomb left his hand. The device exploded half a second later as I closed into arms reach.

Bolt pistols kept chipping away at the light energy shield the mass reactive shells finally penetrating the field and damaging its armor. With a nimbleness that belied its bulk the walker spun back and went down to one knee and I found myself staring down the barrel of its chaingun.

From the corner of my eyes I saw a flash of black Master Bruis swung his power maul down on the ammunition belt almost snapping the weapon clean in two. Certainly putting it out of commission.

I seized this chance.

Springing off from the useless gun I spread my arms wide then dug my claws into the armored frame like I was trying to hug the machine.

The Knight shot back to its feet, the others saw me in their iron sights and thankfully held their fire, leaving me in its iron embrace. My helmet pressed against the ocular port filling the pilot's vision with my Mark II helm. It turned and stumbled wildly trying to throw me off, I drew back my left hand and stabbed at the vulnerable shoulder joints piercing through the delicate servos and locking the right arm in place. Then for good measure, I head butted and shattered the pilot's only means of seeing.

Disentangling my right hand with all my strength I pulled myself as high as I could with my left and started clawing my way to the Xeno inside the mono edged power blades making short work of the hull. I heard a familiar explosion of rending metal from below, the Knight lurched to the right at the worst possible moment when I was completely off balance. My grip slipped and I fell hard to the ground.

I rolled back to my feet, the Knight's left leg had been torn in two sinking it down onto the scorched nub. Sergeant Ryder, the one I assumed had done this deed, buried his powerfist into its pelvis on his back hand swing.

The Knight made to pulverize Ryder into another bloody pulp with a swift right hook as its tortured servos screamed in protest from the damage I had caused. In the middle of its swing Captain Arminger launched forward cutting off the clawed hand at the wrist with his power ax.

Its portions chopped back the giant limb stopped just short of its intended target. I saw this had been done to its left hand as well,

_Arminger's handiwork, saved my life probably._

Effectively crippled and totally blind the machine froze in place letting Sergeant Ryder pull back to a safe distance. Seeing a clear and easy target the heavy weapons team had no need for an order to fire. Half a dozen rockets finally flew true blowing the doomed Knight apart.

* * *

Ragged cheers sounded from our ranks, while I too was proud that the machine had finally fallen more than anything I could only think of how lucky we had been.

_We still had a duty to perform._

I voxed back to Rameus, "Tyr send in the Apothecaries immediately."

" _They're on their way."_

Arminger walked up to the smoking pile of scrap poking pieces with the head of his ax. "What are the odds this was their only Knight?"

Very very slim I thought, yet when I parted my lips to answer my second to my left Sergeant Vallo suddenly drew a plasma pistol and fired a shot almost straight up into the air. I swept my combi bolter up to see what he had shot at,

I tracked the burning plasma shot until it seemed to strike against nothing,

_The alien's camouflage failed,_

And the flaming corpse landed in the wreck of its mighty steed right in front of Captain Arminger. Sergent Vallo spun the pistol by the trigger guard around his fingers re-holstering it in a flashy flourish.

Master Bruis, Arminger, Sergeant Ryder and I gave him a collective look of confusion.

"The pilot ejected my lords," He said rather casually, "And yes. I sensed something…"

_Bloody Psykers._

I brought a map of the alien city up across my heads up display, the other lesser Captains of the Vanguard had taken out several of the laser defense batteries and marked them as clear on the battlenet.

_The hole was open._

"My Lord Praetor," I said, calling back to the flagship and the entire Vanguard, "Our targets are secure and the red carpet has been laid. May we request the pleasure of the Auxilia's presence?"

Vaurion's response was prompt, and laced with a relieved tone, "Indeed you may Commander they are already on their way."

I saw my display shift over to a private channel to the Praetor, and my heart soared at his words of praise.

"Well done Skius."

I couldn't help but smile, "Thank you lord,"

That weight of anxiety that had hung from my shoulders since our flight down to this forsaken world finally lifted free. We had met the enemy and weathered their best shot, proving or place as the superior warriors and species.

And I had lived up to the promise my Praetor saw.

_With my spirits higher than the elevator above us I headed back inside to set up our command post and begin guiding the army landers down to the reflecting pool. No mind paid to the rain of false alien meteors falling down from the sky on the inner forges._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone care or believe me that I had no Idea about Mass Effect Andromeda's protagonist family name when I started writing this?
> 
> Anywho if it wasn't obvious before, I'm sure those in the know can definitely see the minor crossover elements now. Just a little something I felt like doing with one of the games that has been slowing down ITGD and my college career a lot lately.
> 
> Can't really say much else really. Will have one more battle chapter and then have a breather one where I set up the twist to this campaign building up to earn its other working title.
> 
> So share if you care, review as you do, I really gotta get back to my schoolwork.


	4. Hammer Down

**[Mark: 32.06.33]**

-  **Ra'Chaal counter attack inbound, Kattegan 12** **th** **Super heavy armor division falling back, immediate plea for Astartes reinforcements.**

***Motion for Censure issued by Vanguard Commander Centermerius.**

**== Seconded by Master Diaconus Bruis Le'Scot.**

**/Re... Cowardice in the Line of Duty/**

**; Legion Strike Cruisers, _Shining Dew_ and  _Crimson Skies_ ordered to brave remaining defensive fire and take up interdiction positions.**

**…**

-  **Status of _The First Curse_  (Unchanged.)**

-  **Master Astropath demands audience with Praetor Vaurion. Meeting promised after XIth Legion combat operations ease.**

**/:::::/**

**Thought for the day.**

**_"I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country." Attributed to ancient Terran revolutionary spy hanged for treason Circa M. 1.7._ **

* * *

_"Pasanius engage!"_

Another phalanx of Xeno Knights was pressing towards our position led by a truly massive rotund machine that radiated heat from the oversized vented pack high on its back. Carrying a large single shot launcher in its giant hands.

The ends of which bore complex clawed thermal energy projectors, the Knight held up its right hand sending out a burning vortex shield to block the las cannon shots from the Deredeo pattern Dreadnought Raylan advancing through the narrow pass of dark shadowed walls with tactical squads by his feet.

_Over the latest rubble pile the Legion had made in its Hacksaw March._

Another technique favored by the warriors of the Eleventh Legion, used to advance through heavily fortified areas quickly and to use our own might to bolster the auxilia forces we had sworn to stand by. A solid line of battle brothers and armor advancing behind multiple probing points of the most elite forces of the Dawn Stalkers. Veteran fast assault units, Destroyer squads, Dreadnought talons and terminator wings.

Points like the teeth of a saw blade, biting into the enemy.

_And then the saw began to cut._

The lead Xeno machine lowered its energy shield down as it neared one of the army's entrenched positions in the bomb blasted lobby of one of the Xeno's towering glass hive spires. Men panicked and broke ranks fleeing from the approaching hulk abandoning their mortars. Lasgun shots and small auto weapons having no effect against its heavily armored frame.

A single gun metal cylinder launched from the Knight's back and landed in the midst of the soldiers brave enough to stand in its way. Green gas spilled from this canister filling the air and choking the troopers. Until a single fire trailing projectile spat from the walker's weapon igniting the swirling clouds with explosive force, troopers barely even had time to cry out before they were consumed by the scorching blaze.

The Knight walked undaunted through the flames, bones and body armor crunching beneath its feet. Pausing to sweep the burning shield down over the mortars. Melting the launch tubes to slag and detonating the unspent rounds.

More Knights fell out of the sky in the open plaza behind this beast and picked themselves up from their kneeling positions. Some of their patterns stripped down lightweight and made to move while others stood out like ogres of steel. Literal walking tanks like the lead machine coming right at us. Most however were in the middle ground of the style we had first faced at the elevator yesterday.

Their acrobatic pilots came down from the nearby buildings or emerged from the shadows leaping into the cavernous cockpits of their mechanical steeds. Some of these soldiers absent their walkers made use of the jump kits on the small of their backs to leap up against the canyon like walls of this transit route and assail us from above.

Bolters raised up and quickly plucked these Xenos from their attack like troublesome flies. But not before a multitude of thrown explosives rained down on the legionnaires. Blasting battle brothers off their feet, forcing our heavy weapons to take cover.

_A vox gnarled voice crackled in my ear, "Gladly Commander."_

Ancient Pasanius was easily a match in size for this pyromaniac Knight, he walked his Contemptor chassis right through a blast scarred wall on the right flank into the fire and flames coming to grips with his own twin close combat fists and their built in heavy flamers.

The Xeno Knight reloaded and fired its weapon at Pasanius, the flaming shell shattered against his armor. Whatever compound it contained lit and began to burn against his adamantium shell.

I zoomed out with my helmet's magnification from my position several meters behind the Deredeo Raylan next to a stalled Stormblade super heavy. Indirect mortar fire had shattered one of its tracks when we finally crossed into the Xeno's kill zones and their counter attack began. Other super heavies backed up and faltered the whole march in their retreat from this tiny display of aggression. Much to my ire I had to deploy my chosen and the one hundred and eighty ninth company after dispatching a pack of gunships at the artillery position to save this crew who despite being immobilized continued to lob plasma blasts at the approaching walkers.

_Such bravery was worth preserving._

I brought my attention back to the battle before me. Once we crossed this plaza half of the entire elevator complex would be purged and under our control. This vast parade route of smooth white stone roads, great sweeping plains of bright green grass surrounded by long reflecting ponds. The largest open space in this continent of conveyors to the elevators. These Xenos were very fond of this design in their worlds. It would be pleasing to the eye if built by Humans.

Pasanius kept advancing like the burning thermite lodged on his armored chest was only a little lodge candle and had as much chance of harming him. The alien walker cast its weapon away it must have realized how long that would take to bring down the Dreadnought. So it chose a new approach, raising its hands glowing with bright thermal energy.

The ancient's voice blared out over vox speakers, "I shall not be out done alien!"

The Contemptor crashed its twin fists up together the twin smoking streams of promethium almost merged together as they splashed over the Xeno's armored front. But the bulky machine had been designed and built to take such punishments.

The walker went into a fighting crouch, legs wide and arms wide to welcome Pasanius into its reach. I doubted however its alien pilot knew of its foe and just what it was getting into. Before his internment in that coffin shell, Sergeant Pasanius had loved to wrestle.

The Dreadnought's powerfists came up catching and crushing the Xeno's own with little effort. Unstable coils of glowing energy sputtered out and scattered in showers of sparks against the ferrocrete. Pasanius pushed his opponent back and off balance. The Knight stumbled half a step flailing its crushed hands still spewing energy at the bronze figure approaching.

The ancient one rushed forward ducking beneath the burning sprays, body checking the walker back. Even I heard the dull thud of it back by the Stormblade. The Knight tried to stab its flaming hands into the joints of Pasanius's hull in a last ditch effort to do damage, the Dreadnought smacked them aside. Brought his right fist back and slammed it into the Knights cockpit.

Pulling its wriggling pilot free of its sealed control center through the jagged edges of this new hole. Holding the alien up to the focusing helmet on his Contemptor frame as the directionless Knight balanced on its last legs.

"Any last words Xeno?" The ancient one growled,

I don't know if the alien actually responded, and I didn't speak their language anyway. But whatever its response, cryptic grunts of its tongue or some unintelligible gurgles of blood and pain made Pasanius laugh.

"Well said my green friend," He shouted with a hearty bark of amusement before igniting the power field around his closing fist and turning the creature into purple mist then turning the heavy flamer within the opposite against the crippled Knight,

_"Good game,"_

Promethium could melt anything given enough time. The alien war machine would be a pool of slag within the hour with the amount Pasanius sprayed all over its broken frame. Whirlwind rockets screamed from the sky and landed in the ranks of the approaching walkers. More barriers of blue light sprang up in front of the phalanx from open palms or as sudden walls from nowhere blocking the worst of the barrage.

"Hold fast brothers," I called over the open vox, "Form in the plaza and let them break upon us."

The incoming bombardment from our two strike cruisers wouldn't be nearly as effective if we let this force push into us amidst the cover of the buildings. We needed to pin them down in the open and smash them like an ant on an anvil. See how well their infuriating shields stood up to capital weaponry.

Pasanius ducked into one of said structures, clearing the line of fire for Raylan and brothers from the Thirty Fourth and Hundred Eighty Ninth to fire.

Two servitors finally finished their work on the Stormblade's left track, standing and halting the shower of sparks which had been raining for the last five minutes from their welders. Quickly rolling away on their own tracked feet for the safety of the approaching Army lines.

I did not expect such a mix of troops from our comrades in arms. Leading the charge was a Major Kenneth, summarily put in charge of the Kattegan twelfth super heavy battalion after Master Bruis had removed the Colonel who had ordered a retreat. The major was grinding over already pulverized streets in his heavily armed Stormhammer. The tank sporting two twin linked battle cannon turrets, an inbuilt forward arcing demolisher siege cannon, and four heavy bolter turret sponsons on its flanks over a pair of quad las cannons and heavy flamers. One of the most impressive display of guns I had ever seen on one war engine.

Behind him and the lighter battle tanks sortieing into place behind our own rhinos and predators were the swarms of the army infantry.

I had no small amount of shock upon seeing the weapons these mostly fur cloaked barbarous levies were armed with. The only firearms the poor bastards even had were ones looted from the enemy dead. The rest were bearing a motley assortment of crude spears, swords, and axes which I didn't think were even steel let alone accompanied by power fields or chainblades. Five thousand infantrymen readying for a battle in the wrong era beside the greatest tanks known to mankind.

_The moment was not lost on me._

One of our techmarines balked at the levies using the Xeno weaponry, but I reasoned with him there was no harm in the practical short run of them having some semblance of proper equipment to use in service of the Legion and Imperium. They filled into the gaps alongside our Astartes squads where they might find some use against the synthetic infantry I knew were due for another appearance.

The levies parted around me as I approached the Stormhammer. A hatch opened up behind one of the battle cannons and the major emerged. His features hidden behind the heavy drab helmet with glowing green eyes and rebreathing mask with his jumpsuit riding high on his neck. Finding easy footholds on the many edges of armor I climbed up and crouched down beside the man.

"We go, now," I said, memories of his superior's feeble will giving my voice an even harsher tone than the vox projectors could.

I could tell from his body language that he was nervous even in his mighty steed obviously new to the harsh ways of war, and his words confirmed it.

"Should we not wait for your orbital support lord?" He asked,

"You are lucky Major," I told him, "Other Legions would have forced decimation on the Kattegan twelfth for what your superiors ordered,"

I brought up my right hand and lightning claw, "Here you stand in humanities golden hour and you still feel fear?"

Kenneth managed to regain some composure, "Only of failing Captain, should we not use our superiorities to their full advantage?"

"Which is what we are doing, if they cross this plaza we will lose the advantage of open ground then we will waste precious time turning back and hunting them down. We halt them here."

His helmeted head shook, "Astartes, mad the lot of you. Running out right at the enemy."

It almost churned my stomach picturing the way these soldiers had been taught to fight. Something needed to be corrected. I thought of a dozen separate lessons from my dead Captain Oenomaus, and all the Diaconus I had ever sat at the feet of.

_To set an inspiring example,_

"Mad we may seem Major," I told him, "But I will tell you this and perhaps you will understand what compels us… We will not shame our absent Primarch when he is returned to us with tales of dishonor and cowardice in the line of duty. The right to our future belongs to the brave and the bold, seizing our destiny will require courage."

The man sat there, in deep thought I hoped,

"Fug it…" Kenneth finally said, "Today is a good day to die!"

He reached back grabbing the admantium hatch and sealed himself inside. The engines within this great beast of steel rumbled to readiness and I stood on the Stormhammer's hull, voxing out to the whole of the Vanguard.

_"Forward! Their last day Dawns!"_

* * *

First, half a dozen rhinos accelerated away from the front lines into the open. The approaching Knights targeted them immediately, ripping the personnel carriers to pieces with the cannons in their hands.

Just as planned. The rhinos were unmanned with their controls jammed forward and their crew compartments full of smoke bombs. Clouds of grey ash billowed out from the burning hulls, blocking both our eyes and those of the Xenos. Now the battle tanks and the rest of the Dawn Stalkers moved forward, stray rounds flicking through the smoke screen but not doing nearly as much damaged as they would have if they'd been aimed.

I had been trained as an outrider during my days as a sergeant. Finding my balance on top of the shifting Stormhammer was child's play compared to those many hours spent at break neck speeds on a jetbike. The other just fixed Stormblade shifted to the right as it began to advance letting our tank come up side by side. Shaking even my gene enhanced bones with the power of their engines.

This was how they were meant to fight, first in the line of fire, first into hostile lands anchoring the battle line. We rolled out into the blinding sunlight and my visor automatically dimmed to compensate.

I keyed into the tank's vox frequencies, "Show them our true fury Major,"

" _Target acquired, shots out!"_

Five cannons roared as one, blue cutting beams flashed out from the las cannons followed by the flash of a miniature sun from the Stormblade's plasma cannon firing as the whole Imperial force let loose with every single cannon it possessed. The crushing symphony of the explosives landing beyond the smoke was one of the sweetest sounds I had ever heard.

Our rounds sailed through the smoke screen leaving neat little holes,

Letting in the blue glow from more of the alien energy shields. Tall cyan walls shimmered after they recovered from the tons of explosives hammered against them, or caught in the vortex of energy projected from raised fists.

I almost snarled in frustration the Major voiced the reason mere seconds later,

"No effect on target Commander." The vox remained open for a moment longer letting me hear his nervous swallow. But partially deserved for the mortal, we may as well have been throwing pie plates with those shields up.

"Drive us closer," I ordered, "We shall grind them to ruin beneath the treads."

He responded with the crank of massive shifting gears lurching the Stormhammer forward as the battle cannons let loose another volley and the chatter of heavy bolters sang like rain on a roof. We rolled through the smoke clouds just in time to witness the alien energy barriers finally fail beneath our barrage. One Knight uselessly peppered the front of our tank with a massive laser rifle before being sucked beneath the Stormhammer.

A Xeno cannon round exploded against the comms array to my right, sensing the gunsights lining up on me I leapt from the tank. The crushed walker emerged from the shadows beneath the Stormhammer, attempting to rise until I buried my claws in the power plant on its back.

Its right hand rose up as if the artificial automata could feel the pain of the mono edged blades biting deep as it collapsed back, and the cockpit began to open. But instead of salvation the Xeno pilot found a horde of screaming barbarians ramming their spears down into its purple guts.

Satisfied the machine was no longer a threat I turned back to the battle. Astartes disembarked from their Landraiders and Rhinos and every single Dreadnought in the Echelon charged forward behind the ancient Pasanius. Assault cannons and in built bolters spun up, I heard the familiar growing whine of their multi-meltas and las cannons powering on while their power fists opened and closed in anticipation.

They would not be wanting for long, the Knights closed the gaps around our tanks firing into the weaker side armors or at the now vulnerable troops especially our auxiliaries. The giant chain guns, explosive cannons, laser rifles, blue electricity projectors, and off-hand mounts reaped a bloody toll on the light infantry who uselessly hurled spears and axes against the walkers. But the machines lacked the stopping power to penetrate and truly cripple our armored battle tanks,

_Yet they did not need their guns to render our vehicles inoperable,_

Their flickering body shields warded away the mass of bolter rounds crashing against them for a moment, the alien Knights gripped their clawed hands low on our light vehicles and flipped them end over end. I saw one Predator fall backwards and crush four Astartes and their sergeant blind to the danger as they fired on another Knight breaking through the lines. But our heavy battle tanks and Landraiders resisted their efforts, one machine could not flip any of those quickly without leaving itself exposed and defenseless.

The aliens were relentless, I sensed the appropriate time.

" _Tyr now!"_

The heavy weapons Captain acted at once, I trusted him to guide the tanks on our flanks to close in like a great claw on the armored Knights. Their flanks turned to deal with the threat while I voxed to my chosen and the Dreadnoughts once more, we needed to get in close.

_"Charge!"_

One ancient Contemptor bearing twin assault cannons opened up with everything he had at a Knight walking past the Stormhammer still firing its earth shaking battle cannons into the phalanx, the alien machine raised its left hand catching all of the high explosive shells in its swirling field. Undaunted the Dreadnought kept up the barrage,

Right until the Knight uncurled its fingers and shot it right back, blowing off each of the assault cannons and shredding the front armor of the ancient who toppled backwards to the ground. My heart burned for the fallen one, but cooled in the looming shadow of the one whose dead heart burned even hotter.

Pasanius vox growled a challenge at the walker, "Let me show you how to really  _catch fire_ alien."

Once again his bronze power fists clanged together, the merged promethium torrent immolated the other Contemptor's final slayer. The pilot must have panicked for he made no move to block the twin power fists that swung down then back up behind Pasanius like the hands of a clock and hammered the Knight down into the ground where it belonged,

_Shattered before the might of the Eleventh Legion,_

Snapping off shots from my wrist bolter around the twin super heavy tanks I tried to gauge the flow of the wider battle closing in. From the right of the Stormblade another Knight appeared hefting one of their explosive firing rifles, rocket pods rising up from its shoulders aiming straight for Pasanius and myself.

The Dreadnought immediately stepped in front of me crossing his massive iron arms, I could not count the amount of rockets Pasanius blocked with his own body. All to save me.

I broke for cover to my left trying to keep my crested head low, Pasanius swung a left hook at the now much closer walker rotating his whole torso on the mid joint. These machines were much more nimble than the ancients, in one smooth motion it spun and ducked down to one knee then launched another missile barrage and fusillade of cannon fire at the looming Contemptor. But the tech priests had gifted his iron-form with a stronger alloy than most others of his kind, Pasanius yet endured.

The giant rifle butt crashing against his chest instead of the targeted helmet focuser did even less to penetrate his hide. Moving quickly I raked my claws across the back of the Knight's vulnerable knees hamstringing both legs in one fell swoop. The ground rumbled behind me as I began to head toward the right flank where I knew the majority of our signal masters were taking cover. I had no time to turn back and see what Pasanius was now doing to that machine.

Vaurion had ordered two ships to come into low orbit for support no matter the danger of the remaining defensive fire. But to mitigate the risk I myself had commanded Arminger to find and neutralize one last trio of defensive laser batteries that covered the heart of the city.

I voxed my second for a status report, knowing it was me and predicting my wish for expedience the assault Captain spoke as soon as the link was established,

"The control room is barricaded, give me two minutes." He said, sounding out of breath.

"Do you require reinforcements?" I asked,

"Negative, just take some picts for me when the ships burn these creatures."

A corner of my mouth crept up in a smirk, "Understood."

* * *

Close range bolters and meltas from every direction along with the sponson las cannons whittled the Knights on the right flank down one by one. But the battle still raged on the left flank, these Xenos appearing more skilled their fellows. Giving ground while being forced back into our captured territory by Captain Rameus's iron resolve.

_He was often said to be only one numeral away from a legion more to his battle character._

Ancient Raylan stood before me, picking his shots with the two las cannons on his Deredeo frame while the missile launcher on his back sent explosive death up into the sky. I scanned for the signal masters about to step over his bronze clawed foot when a different shaking drew my attention downward.

At first I thought it was the thunder of guns that had accompanied the battle ever since we made hard contact. Until the cracks began to appear,

Black lines spread like veins in the blink of an eye through the dust covered slabs beneath our feet, the sound of ferrocrete tearing apart making my helmet senses automatically dull. Raylan looked down from his targets, I shared one look with the ancient above me before the ground gave out beneath us.

* * *

I fell several meters straight down, armor and the Emperor's genetic gifts saved my legs from being broken. Training and instincts saved my life by rolling forward from beneath the Deredeo that crashed hard behind me.

Finding my balance and direction took a moment in this pitch darkness and clouds of dust that flooded this subterranean system, luckily I hadn't impaled myself on my own lightning claws, a death to embarrassing to contemplate. I could imagine brothers and battle tanks as the source of the other rending crescendos of heavy things hitting the bottom of this deep pit. Theoreticals of damage to the hive's sub structure were prominent in my mind, but a deeper animal feeling told me this was definitely a trap.

A thought confirmed seconds later as I watched the army of little red lights emerge from the shadows ahead. Single upright bars and other twin slashes of crimson seemingly floating towards me. As I saw them, they saw me. Hundreds of synthetics advancing through the darkness, shaking the ground with the weight of their metal bodies. Rank and file no larger than a human forging ahead as cannon fodder, laced with squads of heavy frames built to fight hand to hand and carry the heaviest of infantry portable weapons.

_All coming right for me._

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

* * *

There was nothing else outside of this hole.

I saw little but sparks flying from machines shredded by my claws, tracer rounds and plasma blasts briefly illuminating this pit of violence and death I was trapped inside. It did not matter looking for a way out, the enemy was here with me. My forces would know what to do, tactical squads and the Dreadnoughts would be lining up along the trench that had cut our Vanguard in half waiting to rain fire on whatever hostiles emerged.

But I wasn't remembering any of that, I was as an animal trapped in a corner. Fighting because that was the only thing I could do. Unable to count how many synthetics and aliens I cut down aside from the next in line.

_As the flaming hot hand around my hearts clenched tighter and tighter, like something was trying to burst forth in my struggle. Killing to try and beat it back down,_

More combat automatons emerged from the intact substructure, the shorter cousins to the Knights on the surface. Something struck me in the back and I fell to the shattered ferrocrete. I rolled back firing the bolter on my wrist ineffectively against the robot that had struck me.

It raised a claw glowing with plasma fire getting ready to incinerate me. Rage leapt from my throat in a wild defiant roar.

Before Pasanius kicked this Xeno machine through the air back against the wall.

The chatter of bolters firing into this mechanical horde began burying the howls of our auxiliaries meeting the machines finally on semi-equal footing. Pasanius's heavy flamers immolated the machine, melting armor and turning wires into veins of smoke and sparks. Behind the Contemptor Ancient Raylan lay defeated and smoking, I knew not whether he was just incapacitated or had died his final death. Pasanius looked down on me,

_I knew he knew,_

His voice projector growled, "Ground and center yourself Commander."

I got back on my feet, hearing his words but choosing not to respond. Taking deep calming breaths and letting them out almost explosively. The burn in my chest slowly subsiding down to embers and then just cold ash. Instead I voxed to Captain Arminger,

"John, status?" I demanded,

"The array is offline," He told me, "Call the ships brother."

" _I need a signal master!"_

One legionnaire carrying multiple antennas on the back of his bronze mark II plate and a data slate on his left wrist slid down into this trench upon hearing my company wide call. His boots pushed away some of the debris and I saw the familiar shape of a railway beam that had been buried. The Xenos were dug into this place like a nest of ticks.

"Commander?" He spoke the word in reverence and as a question for orders.

I pointed my left claw back to the front lines, "Link with the ships. Clear them hot and weapons free, attack direction west burn everything ahead of our march five kilometers away from tower four."

He nodded in understanding then muted himself as he linked with the incoming strike cruisers. Pasanius looked up into the sky, some system in his ironform alerting him to an incoming danger.

"There are two alien ships approaching in atmosphere from the west Commander." He rumbled to me,

I turned back to the signal master, "Get those guns firing now."

Shoulder to shoulder and screaming their lungs out another wave of auxiliaries charged into the synthetics. Pasanius and I turned to face the mechanical battalion as well.

Flamers from up above splashed torrents of fire into the robotic ranks. I fired the last rounds from my wrist mounted bolter into the smoking carnage, downing a few frames but not enough to make a difference. But at least those last few shots had not been wasted on more Knights or Automatas.

Fury and insanity amongst our unaugmented allies almost seemed enough to carry the battle. Razor points broke flimsy joints and strong arms dented box like heads into artful messes of ruptured edges. Stolen weapons were pressed barrel to breast plate and proved equally as effective against the synthetics.

I could have forced my way through the crowd of screaming warriors back to the front, and for the Dreadnought by my side it would have been even easier. But I had my fill of combat for the moment, again reminding myself of my elevated position. I needed to find my way back to the surface.

* * *

Once again explosions shook the ground dangerously close. It was not hard to discern how close as half a heartbeat later a vibrant crimson spray coated me from head to toe. Droplets fell from the bronze and black paint and I reflexively brought one clawed hand up to try and guard my eyes behind the red slit.

A bloody hole of some thirty dead auxiliaries had opened up right next to me. More shouting and waving swords further down the line preceded a second bloody explosion of dead men. The warriors began to retreat in panicked sprints, their officers shouted and beat at their men trying to get them back into the fight.

Weight suddenly fell on my back, I tilted my head upward as far as I could. Right into the path of the narrow pointed blade in both hands of the Xeno on my shoulders. The tip slammed into my visor filling it with cracks. I swung up with my right claw with a cry of disgusted surprise, and brought it down again on my side covered in purple blood. The creature's mass disappeared from my shoulders although the cracks in my visor remained. I shuddered at how close it had come to me.

"Commander! Go!" Passanius shouted, swinging both powerfists down against the ground in a rippling energy shock wave. Auxilaries and synthetics alike were crushed and flung up into the air by the sheer force of the ancient's ground clearing swing. He could not afford to be cautious.

A red disc sailed over the violent mire of killing.

It landed four paces away in front of the signal master, four tiny jointed crab like legs sprouted from the device as the circle expanded upwards into a red flashing cylinder.

_Lights painting targets,_

The signal master wisely drew his bolt pistol and fired. The little machine leapt as the mass reactive round flew towards it, dodging and jumping right at the Astartes who adjusted his aim and put another shell through it in midair. The shell exploded first sensing mass and fulfilling its designed purpose.

Setting off the other explosive charge in the Ra'Chaal creation.

One powerful enough to send me stumbling back several paces while I raised my arms to block red hot shrapnel. The signal master was not so lucky a mere arms reach away, his pistol exploded along with his left hand. To his credit the Astartes gave no visible or audible sign of pain. But too late I saw one of the cloaked aliens slide on its back between his legs from behind and fire a plasma shotgun into his face.

The Mark two helmet and the warrior's head beneath were blown clean off his bronze shoulders. The Xeno soldier brought its terrible weapon to bear against me, its bare reptilian fingers just began to squeeze the trigger when I nailed the creature to the ground with the claws of my right hand. Shredding the weapon to pieces as they passed through woven fibers and purple meat.

" _Grenades! Bury them!"_

My voice blared out over the vox and through projectors on my own helm when I stood. The auxiliary commanders stopped pushing their men into this meat grinder and began a full retreat. Dozens of strong Astartes arms hurled the called for explosives down into the trench. The legion of robots was shredded in fire and shrapnel where they stood, support beams from the deeper tunnels fell after the shockwaves, blocking their routes up from the under hive which I made note to have purged later.

* * *

Sergeant Ryder was there to offer me an armored hand up out of this bloody pit, careful to grab onto only my wrist and not the lethal claws all while keeping our proud banner high. Luckily the brutalized ferrocrete held up beneath our combined weight.

Cannon fire and explosions still echoed over the left flank, but I finally redirected my attention back to the front. Our tanks and warriors giving the coup de grace to the last of the alien phalanx. Reloading their weapons and resetting their sights on the new threat.

_Down from the clouds the ships descended._

Two just as Pasanius had foretold, not like the void faring battleships I witnessed yesterday however. Still large enough to eclipse several hab blocks in a hive city. Massive thermal plumes vented from their arrow headed underside bearing thousands of metric tons aloft. Giant cutting fans dipped from the wings into the air guiding the vessels down. Dozens and dozens of Xeno Knights fell from its belly. The first of the pair made landfall, landing pads crushing down on green grass beds. One giant ramp extended down to the ground and out from its cargo hold marched rank upon rank of their synthetic soldiers.

_Thousands of them._

More Knights fell from its sister ship, and interceptors screamed out into the skies from the port and starboard sides. Prime targets for our brothers still looking to the skies. But I adjusted my previous order,

"Ignore the flyers. Concentrate all fire on the walkers and infantry."

There was no more need to beware of death from above. Yes the Xeno craft were still hanging overhead. But we could leave them to our own interceptors now.

_The sky was catching fire._

Single man craft fought and exploded in balls of fire battling each other in the vast distance between their home ships. I surmised most of the Xeno's ship borne weapons were made for point defense as they weren't raining flak and missiles down on our battle line they were shooting into the raging dogfight. Their troops disembarked, and their fighters launched the two ships were now looking to punch through our screen and escape.

But it was too late for them to escape.

_Ants on an anvil, and here came the hammer._

I couldn't track the first beam of light that came screaming down but I saw the results of it landing. The shield it struck on the hovering ship lasted for half a second, saving the hull and hundreds of Ra'Chaal lives from the rolling fireball that spilled over its back. But weapons of this scale were always deployed in combinations, the first strike crippled shields and armor the second delivered the killing blow.

The light of cannon fire pulsed overhead in the burning clouds lit with thunder and lighting. The atmosphere breaking apart around the hulls of the  _Shining Dew_ and  _Crimson Skies_ as they lowered themselves as far as they dared towards the war world readying to smite everything beneath them with capital weaponry.

A full fusillade from one of the great vessel's macro cannons literally burst the hovering ship at the seams. Metal wings and entire decks burst out in a ball of fire from the reactor going critical, decimating the still marching infantry with debris. A credit to our gunnery crews, few legions could match our precision with close orbit bombardments. And no other would dare authorize any danger close fire mission like this.

Having all the destructive force available to our legion vessels unleashed only a few kilometers away from our Vanguard felt like the whole planet was shaking itself. The most powerful nonnuclear or cyclonic weapons in the Imperium turning this marching host into nothing but plumes of flaming dust and broken rock. Sending buildings tumbling into ruination leaving naught but cleansed glass behind.

_This must be what an Exterminatus felt like._

* * *

_This was what victory felt like._

The capital weapons cleaved through the hive structures, on their way to their designated stopping point burning thousands of square meters of Xeno architecture and sending an un-guessable number of their warriors and workers into oblivion.

The closest blast waves broke upon the fronts of our vehicles like water on rock, only a few unbalanced and braced Astartes fell to the ground their pride wounded but nothing else.

Human tankers rose up like moles from the depths of their war machines through the top hatches all along the front, taking in the glorious sight with their own eyes. Shouting in adrenaline and triumph at the top of their lungs. Disciplined Astartes simply looked for any impossible survivors to make it through the carnage after they adjust from the shock of the bombardment landing almost on their toes.

_But each indulged in the little swell of pride blooming in all of our chests._

Pride not yet completely earned.

I looked over my left shoulder to the last three Xeno machine's standing before half a dozen Landraiders that had closed the noose around their throats. Our warriors disembarked in the inner circle standing behind the defiant stone wall of Captain Rameus stood atop a dead Knight surrounded by slaughtered synthetics and legionaires.

He had forsaken his captain's cloak for a las cannon power cell on his back which had sustained him through this bloody day. He was a master of this heavy laser spitter, knowing the exact millisecond his weapon was ready for another shot. And just where to fire it to the most devastating effect.

Blowing the leg off the right most Knight trailing behind its shield as it took another step forward. Making the machine fall flat on its face, easy prey for the Astartes who swarmed over it revving their armor rending chain axes and crushing crackling powerfists. Shifting his aim again to blast the chaingun from the hands of the Knight on the left and when its rocket pods sprung from its shoulders to rain death on the battle brothers Rameus fired again destroying one and crippling the other with the first premature detonation. All the Landraiders focused now on this defenseless machine and quickly blew it to pieces.

The last machine was something else entirely, its standard rounded hull colored black as night trimmed in blood red paint, a long serpentine dragon decal coiled around its ocular port glowing bring blue. The Knight who had kept his dwindling comrades fighting and delaying this whole wing of the Vanguard far longer than any of the others that had stood before us. This phalanx's Seneschal if I had to guess.

It's raised shield swallowed bolt after bolt and cannon after cannon shot. But Rameus aimed straight for this arsenal of taken munitions and fired a single shot.

A cascade of carnage erupted in the middle of his field, the Knight's armed was ripped to shreds and split open like a cooked sausage cored by the Captain's shot. And all the stolen bolt shells and missiles detonated and devastated the front armor of the black machine.

Yet still it advanced.

I made to step forward and join melee with this walker. Sergeant Ryder held me back however with his powerfist on my shoulder. I made to twist free but the vox crackled to life.

It was Captain Rameus,

"Back away!" He both commanded the men around him and demanded of the looming Titan of violence, "You shall not!..."

But the machine did, battered and beaten the machine crashed to its knees an arm's reach away from Rameus.

_Its hull began to glow._

Sparks and blinding light flew from cracks and voids in its shell. The machine stretched out its remaining hand and smashed Captain Rameus to the ground pinning him in place. He shouted more in anger than pain his las cannon crushing down on him beneath the clawed hand. A wave of pressure hung heavy in the air, noise began roaring from the one handed Knight met with screaming defiance from the old Captain and his warriors rushing in to free him.

_I thought one of our ships had misfired._

That was the power of the Knight's self-destruct.

A blinding flash, another earsplitting boom. Sending Landraiders almost flipping backwards and bronze Astartes flying like rag-dolls. The ones that weren't incinerated instantly in the last Xeno standing's bitter ploy to take some of us into oblivion with it.

My chosen and I were sheltered by the now white hot heavy armor of the Landraiders, their drivers stunned and shaken by the point blank detonation of the reactor. But not even our senses were immune to the sheer force of what just happened.

_The Captain…_

_It was a forlorn hope that moved me forward with the squads at my back._

_Rameus had armor second only to terminator plate, he could have shimmied free and ducked behind the dead Knight he had made his last stand on for cover._

_I ran forward looking for any sign of the gallant devastator, calling his name into the dead silence._

_"Captain! Captain respond! Captain Rameus!... Tyr!... Tyr!"_

 


	5. All quiet on the front

**[Mark 76.24.05]**

-  **Last significant enemy contact reported eight hours ago. All orbital plates' secured, orbital dominion over Ra'Chaal 3 achieved. Elevator bases numerated 5 and 6 yet to be struck and cleansed. Army groups deploying out beyond elevator continent on annihilation detail.**

 **| 375** **th**   **Expedition Fleet forces casualty reports. (Read more) |**

**| Battle damage assessments. (Read more) |**

**| Dawn Stalker's casualty reports. (Insufficient Clearance.)**

**ALERT**

**/Entry attempt noted in log, notifying stationed Ordo Chronos Inquisitor**

-  **Xeno fleet retreating back to home world (true designate 375-13). Expedition fleet elements and accompanying Dawn Stalkers strike vessels dispatched to far system edge prosecuting search and destroy missions. Estimate minimal enemy contact.**

**/Proposed regroup at [Mark. 120.00.00]**

·  **XIth Legion Astartes Vanguard regrouping and resupplying. Awaiting further orders from Praetor Vaurion,**

**/Incoming transmission…ext- Praetor Officium/ "Mission objectives stand. Take the orbital elevators and attend to the Xenos. We shall see this battle through to the end Dawn Stalkers. Steel yourselves brothers, it's a dirty job but someone has to do it."**

**; Censure motion upon Kattegan 12** **th**   **Super heavy armor division postponed for review.**

**; Legion honors and auxiliary accolades awaiting final review and dispensation**

**; Praetor Vaurion and Mistress Read to meet with Master Astropath at [Mark 80.00.00] sharp.**

**/:::::/**

**Thought for the day,**

" **Sometimes the enemy of my enemy. Is just another enemy."**

-  **Excerpt from the** _ **Gladius Imperialis.**_

* * *

_There is a memorial on Terra,_

Not a grand kilometer spanning mural of honor rolls, nor an entire moon dedicated to the glory of the Eleventh. But those who look upon it and know, never forget.

I have seen it three times. A simple thing, that broad white marble obelisk on a halved pyramid of the same carved stone. Each etched with the names of the fallen. Tall but nothing compared to the ancient hive spires. Topped by a rising sun made of metal salvaged from the armor of the warriors slain during Master Antinous's strike on the crown road. The first dawn raid of our not yet christened brotherhood, the battle that raised us in favor amongst the newborn Legions.

It is the only marker on the throne world in remembrance of our Legion. It does not grace a chamber in the Palace itself. Far removed from such splendor and glory just as we are. Out in the wilds on the road to the Eternity Gate, just as the men it honors are. Battling the forces of superstition and darkness beyond the safety of our heartlands, bringing the kind glowing light of the Imperial truth to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

It is not a grand thing but it is enough for us. For we know as long as the sun of our birth world shines on that monument and the Imperium of man, our legend will be remembered.

_And the name of Tyr Rameus, Captain of the Thirty Fourth heavy support company Tenth Echelon Eleventh Legion Astartes shall live on in that immortality._

" _The Emperor knows his name."_

Captain Arminger said those words to me as if he sensed my thoughts while I looked out of the bombed out corner of the alien skyscraper we were setting up as a command post. Army officers and adjutants swarmed the lower levels deploying comm equipment, maps, and cogitators. Setting up barracks for their men and the officers, sequestering mess halls, armories, briefing rooms and strategiums while we Astartes made ourselves at home in the higher levels.

I could see the mass grave from here.

The place where we had buried our brothers who had fallen and set aside spaces for those yet to on this world. As we always did.

"Aye," I told the Captain, "And his name is Legion.  _He'll_  speak it with pride."

_So would our Primarch when he was returned to his sons._

_For Rameus had proven himself a credit to our Legion and promise. We could only hope to die with half as much honor and pride._

I turned away from the jagged blackened edges shifting my crested helm to my other armored hand, my just replaced black cloak fluttering in the wind. No need to worry about snipers. We had gunships stationed overhead and Astartes scouts in all of the best vantage points already in this canyon of hive spires with the rest of the Vanguard loitering below amidst the thousands upon thousands of Imperial Army personnel and war machines.

A pair of servitors trundled around cleaning this small room where we decided the Legion officers could take rest. Arminger stood in the far corner his jump pack unattached at his bronze boots, arms held up as one of the lobotomized servants patched the soft gaps in his armor. Beside the two of them another tended our weapons on a fallen stone pillar. The assault captain's power ax and combat shield and my own claws gently laid out for maintenance.

Next to the broken automatic door in this once impressive suite, one sat on each side the two Diaconus Acolytes were tending to their equipment personally as commanded by the absent Master Bruis. One polishing his power sword and his fellow disassembling a bolt pistol.

Datapads, comm links and a couple of captured synthetic heads littered the space around the small holoprojector on the giant black stone block serving as our round table in the middle of this room. Stray wires and insulation hung from the ceiling letting particles trickle down for the servitors to sweep away. I set my helmet down on this slab absently scratching my freed black hair and pulled one of the data slates over,

I sighed. More reconnaissance reports, scouts of all sorts following the last remaining Knights in this city forge back to their holes. The Xenos were gathering infantry both flesh and synthetic as well as more machines to their sides preparing for siege and guerilla warfare. It was always tiresome cleaning up after a smashing victory, like pulling out the roots of an old tree by hand as I had seen piss poor agri world farmers do.

Arminger lowered his arms and waved away the servitor, "Almost doesn't seem worth the effort." He mused,

I shifted my eyes up to the Captain, "What would that be?"

"Mark three armor brother," Arminger explained, "I heard the Mechanicus have finished prototyping."

"Do you have a mark three suit back on the barge?" I asked.

"No… I was simply talking," He admitted, sinking down on another slab opposite of me laying his bronze vambrance and arm on the block, "Should I go and acquire some yellow paint?"

"For what purpose?"

"None, I suddenly found myself conversing with a dour Fist and wished for the proper visual aid."

"Pragmatism is a trait worthy to be built upon in any Legion."

"I think that is cynicism brother."

"Perhaps, perhaps."

I cast my mind back to those rumors I had heard as well, "Lighter armor they say,"

Arminger cocked his head to the side, "You don't approve?"

"My approval matters not, even though it would be given… What does mighty Alexander always say?"

I knew fully well what our Legion champion was fond of saying, but I wanted this rapport to burgeon. A bit like poking a Squiggoth, but if Arminger gave in to this game I would win.

The Captain growled and answered, "Nimbleness is a greater defense than any iron skin…"

"Which he demonstrated on you first hand."

"I drew first blood."

"And he drew last."

"Bah. I shall have that laurel yet mark my words."

Any warrior could challenge our legion champion for the right to his title and honors, but with the vast distances in between Echelons bouts of that nature were few and far between. And most of the men in Master Antinous's first Echelon had long given up on trying to best the first Sergeant with how many times he had proven himself against all comers or were otherwise uninterested.

_But it was good for John to dream._

Once he was done brushing aside my skepticism the assault captain's hand wandered back to his ruined right ear. Scratching at the flesh patch plastered on by one of the apothecaries earlier.

"Mourning your chiseled good looks?" I asked.

While our Legion unbound from the fate of old age like all the others some said that ours had been gifted with eternal youth as well. Only the most hard worn veterans, captains, diaconi, and praetors bore the marks of a long life of violence. The rest of us could keep a youthful appearance for many decades.

Arminger's hand self-consciously fell to his lap, "Well I quote one of those Kattegan shits, 'Chicks dig scars.'"

"What did he mean by that?"

"I suspect it does not apply to any of our get. Though Razak owes me a favor in that regard."

I did not know of whom he spoke, "Who is Razak?"

"One of Master Koras's apprentices," Arminger explained, speaking of our Chief Apothecary, "I saved the whelp's life on two four forty four, twenty nine."

"Where you first bore your thunder bolts," I noted.

That appeared to please Arminger, he grinned beginning this tale,

"Aye, sent off to relieve a sixth Echelon strike force. Master Koras was there in his dutiful wanderings you know. Five hundred Astartes scouring the tundra plains of that world in its million year exile on the edge of the system. A tank battalion surprised them and pushed our brothers back to a bombed out citadel. Cravens flipped a rhino with a ram and pinned our young apothecary inside the rear hatch. I jumped down and killed four exo-suited humans trying to tear Razak's armor off while he stabbed at them with his Narthecium."

Not being privy to the details of that campaign, I was honored John chose to tell me himself, "I am certain he was grateful." I said with a nod.

He muttered back, "Little cosmetic surgery is a poor balance for a life debt."

I shrugged, "It's a start at least, I am certain you will need his services at least at one point."

"Circumstances aligning," He dryly agreed.

* * *

The occasional sound of footsteps, both Astartes and Human passing in through the broken door had not disturbed us yet. Traffic simply was an accepted thing up in our temporary lofty abode. But this time it was the sound that accompanied these definitely power armored boots that drew both John's and my attention.

_The sound of clinking glass._

Black clad Master Bruis emerged through the portal, his power maul dripping purple blood clutched in his left hand. But in the other the Diaconus had his white cloak detached and bundled up like a traveler's sack. From which the curious sound still emanated.

Master Bruis gently laid his cloak on the stone slab and released the four corners, letting the assortment of tall dark glass bottles spill free.

He laid his weapon down beside this mess and quickly began rounding up the vessels rolling away and once this task was done removed his own black helmet.

"I come bearing gifts," He said with a grin setting the armor piece down on the edge of our slab table. "Tried offering some to Pasanius. He was not amused."

Captain Arminger reached out for a bottle, and voiced the question also on my mind, "What manner of gifts?"

"Wine brothers, the finest of potions."

Arminger pulled his selection back, Master Bruis mean while interlaced his fingers then pushed them out cracking every single joint within making me wince. And for the grand finish to his arrival, took the ends of his cloak now part time table cloth and swiftly pulled it free from beneath his pillaged alcohol.

That act was impressive enough to elicit some applause from myself. Arminger stopped staring at the bottle in his hand as the nature of these gifts registered on his mind and he cast his gaze up to Master Bruis along with a raised eyebrow. The Diaconus tossed his cloak over to one of the loitering servitors before returning the expression.

"Don't give me the eyebrow," he chided, "I saw you and your friend Silas on Sixty six, oh four."

Arminger looked back to the bottle and muttered something to himself before uncorking it with his teeth, spiting the stopper aside and taking a hearty pull.

"What happened where?" I asked,

"None of your business…" Arminger growled back,

With that new mystery to ponder I set down my data slate, but I did not reach for any of the alien vintages yet.

"Where did you get these?" I asked the Diaconus.

"Out in the city," Bruis explained, "Some auxiliaries discovered an eatery and decided an Astartes should have first pick."

"Doesn't explain why you…" Suddenly sensing an insolent tone in my words I held my tongue, not wanting to cause any offence. But Master Bruis was all too happy to answer my half-finished question.

_In a way I didn't expect._

"It would have just been rude to say no," He said very nonchalantly, but then asked a thing of me after a pause while he sat down, "You do not approve?"

"It is a Xeno thing," I told him.

"Good wine is good wine," Bruis said,

Arminger interjected, "Mediocre wine."

I spoke again, "Xeno wine is Xeno wine, no matter what universals you see."

If it was a thing of courage in our Legion imbibing these things I could understand. But we judged our brothers based on the strengths of the heart that drives their arms in battle. I doubted any of the bottles contents could harm an Astartes physically, but I still felt a deep revulsion.

Master Bruis leaned forward, "Indeed, but here we are slaughtering these creatures by the millions but none of us stop to consider and examine the magnitude of this task?"

I was confused, "What do you mean? There is nothing to consider."

"We are here to wipe out an entire species," Bruis continued, "Send them to the dust of memory to be forgotten by the masses that will follow us… Do you not see the weight of that?"

"Xeno's deaths are no burden on me."

"Why is that? Did they not live and breathe, make wine, sail the stars and create many great and terrible things? Should we not lament their passing just like the Humans we put to the sword?"

"No."

"Why?"

My blood was beginning to simmer, "Because that is not our lot to regret, we are to kill until we are finally killed."

Arminger punched a fist onto the slab, "Hear, hear…"

Bruis huffed, "Indeed. But are you smart enough to know why young Skius?"

"Perhaps…" I admitted, ire growing at being lectured like a neophyte… Or a Kattegan.

"Because we cannot permit them to exist. No matter their decent qualities, we know everything in this predatory universe wants to exploit us or see us driven to extinction first. The Imperium, our truth and Humanity face many dangers amongst the stars. And it takes men like us to face them. To render them harmless by making them no longer existent. Whilst some of us choose to understand the full implication of that, everything or nothing. We mustn't allow any alien, mutant, or heretic to run and hide only to come back later stronger than ever. That is the galaxy we live in, we do terrible things like laying Exterminatus at Gladius upon other species because that is the type of deed that needs to be done to preserve humanity."

"Yet still here we sit, with Xeno wine…"

Bruis waved off my objections again, "Fine more for us. Though I suppose your thick headedness is a credit to our training."

I sincerely wanted to end this conversation, and return to the matters at hand. Arminger surprisingly chose to show a diplomatic side of himself and changed the subject, "Did you find some trade on your raid Master Bruis?"

He nodded down to the blood stained power maul. Our Diaconus nodded, "Yes, these auxiliaries continue to both amaze and disappoint me."

Master Bruis paused and looked back over his left shoulder, "It's not your regiment this time Major."

While we were having our grand discussion, the tank commander Major Kenneth had either politely or fearfully kept his distance and let Master Bruis iterate. And Sergeant Vallo beside him had followed this example. Both men had removed their helmets, Vallo carried his while Kenneth did not. Showing the legionnaire had the same swarthy complexion as his captain with a black buzz cut and wide teal eyes and a hawkish face, Kenneth on the other hand had a pale blocky set of features and eyes of the brightest blue with a high and tight corn yellow military haircut.

Vallo smirked and huffed at the Diaconus, "Are you sure you're not psychic Master Bruis?"

He shook his head in denial, "You need not be psychic to have a good sense of timing."

The tanker walked in, correcting his posture as he stood before us,

Kenneth bowed his head and spoke, "My lords,"

"Well met Major," Master Bruis said returning a nod,

"Which regiment are you referring to my lord?" Kenneth asked, "I will personally,"

Our Diaconus stopped him, "No need Major, I have already addressed the situation."

"What situation would that be?" I asked,

Master Bruis reclaimed his weapon, slowly turning the cronzius in his hands, "One rifle platoon came upon a group of Xenos that were trying to surrender."

"Truly?" I asked, this campaign was just becoming full of surprises.

"Indeed, only these idiots were going to accept it."

That small factoid only elicited silence from we gathered Astartes, Bruis continued,

"Only I happened upon the scene and showed them the error of their ways."

_That explained his mood a little,_

The Diaconus held out his weapon to one of the servitors, "In no uncertain terms making them aware that they had embarrassed themselves, they had dishonored their regiment… But most importantly, they had  _slightly_  inconvenienced me."

Without a care for what lay beneath us and a huff of amusement Arminger cast his empty wine bottle out through the window and reached for another, speaking as he did, "Shame they were just a tad late."

I knew exactly what the captain was referring to. Many years ago for almost a decade and a half into our Great Crusade, some of our Legion took groups of Xeno prisoners back to our fortress and Primaris draw world of Todenangst. To set these creatures against our neophytes as part of their final training in merciless fights to the death.

Master Bruis turned back to Arminger, "No it is not brother."

Though I had never been thrown into such a fight, having been forged into a Space Marine upon the soil of Terra. Those bouts were supposed to give our troops a taste of real war that just couldn't be replicated even with live blades and ammunition in battle exercises that still claimed the odd recruit now and again. But the moment Praetor Bendl of the second Echelon brought back a group of Humans for such practices Master Antinous finally heeded the voices of many other Praetors and Diaconi and put a stop to those blood sports.

The argument that if the training methods our legion employed weren't sufficient to move a man's hands to purpose when the time truly came for him to kill or be killed, then it did not matter when he faced his first real foe. It suited us better to find one's steel in the flames of real war, in true service to the Emperor.

Although some other whispers said action was taken so that we would not receive our Lord's wrath when he discovered our actions.

_I chose to ignore those whispers._

Kenneth shifted slightly, remembering my motion for censure and the dim prospects for a man under such weight. Even if Master Bruis had rescinded it, for the moment.

"Fear not Major," Bruis said, "Credit where credit is due, your men have begun to redeem themselves in this war."

"Though we should still have a talk with the Lord Commander of you lot…" Arminger muttered into a closed fist.

The Major bowed not hearing him, "Thank you sirs,"

But much to the man's surprise Master Bruis continued, "Yet it is still a long road ahead of us, both in this campaign and our Great Crusade. And the Eleventh Legion never forgets our friends nor our enemies."

Kenneth looked like he was sweating, Master Bruis turned back to the slab and took four wine bottles into his hands, "Continue to prove that you have recognized your failings and will be sure to correct them,"

The Diaconus stood and moved in front of the tanker towering over him, "And your efforts shall carry you far,  _Colonel_."

It took a moment for the full weight of Master Bruis's words to hit Kenneth. I saw the exact moment they did. The sharp intake of breath and the quick adjustment of posture before he bowed again even deeper than before.

"I am not worthy my lord," Kenneth said in almost a whisper.

_Captain Arminger and I shared an agreeing look about that statement,_

"We shall be the judge of that Colonel," Bruis said, "We know promise when we see it. Perhaps even a governorship lays in your future."

_I highly doubted that, but it was one tempting treat to dangle in front of Kenneth's nose._

Bruis held out the wine bottles, "Whoever of your command staff drinks the most will receive a promotion as well,"

Kenneth looked confused but received the alien glass and wine with a polite nod of thanks and confirmation. Bruis looked over to Sergeant Vallo, ""Do you have anything else to report?"

The XVth legionnaire crashed a fist to his breast plate, "No my lord,"

"See to their competition brother." Bruis commanded indicating Colonel Kenneth, "And if any of them die please inform me."

"Your will my hands Diaconus."

Kenneth stuttered the start of a question, "Wait, what?"

But was swiftly guided out of the room by the strong arm of Sergeant Vallo as Master Bruis returned to his previous position at our table.

Arminger spoke, "You coddle these,"

_He paused choosing which word to spit with venom,_

"Soldiers," he decided.

Master Bruis chuckled, "It is my job to know what motivates men Captain. I like to think I am good at it. And more often than not you do need to focus a Human's eyes on the proverbial prize," Then selected a new bottle and looked to me, "So, to business Commander?"

Picking up the data slate I had been viewing I nodded, "No rest for the wicked, perhaps?"

Bruis gave his reply not rising to the bait, " _In battle I shall die,"_

The next verse flitted through the back of my mind but I did not voice it. Instead I powered on the holo projector and brought up a grid scan of this city forge.

"We still have multiple groups of hostiles at large," I began, reiterating the reconnaissance reports, "I would prefer not committing to any assault while our flanks are not yet secured."

_A new thought struck me._

"Two birds…"

Arminger spoke in question, "Commander?"

"Our enemy's machines, they need power do they not?"

"Ask your Techpriest."

I indicated the hologram, "If we cut off their supply of energy…"

Now they saw my intentions. Arminger asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"A few more detailed scans in orbit have revealed this entire world runs on the energy provided from a single massive geothermal power station. And indeed I have spoken to Enginseer Egli. Our enemy is undoubtedly siphoning off power from primary conduits or other stations we have not yet secured. But if we take the main plant and shut it down."

The assault captain was growing excited, "The noose draws closed."

I nodded, "Their backups will not be able to compensate. We can wait them out until their Knights and cannon fodder robots don't even have the strength to move let alone fight. Or, it will significantly turn the tide of attrition in our favor."

Even though I was still Commander and it was my decision to make on our next move it felt like I still needed to covet Master Bruis's approval for my suggested strategies. The Diaconus pondered this course for a moment before making his thoughts known. Thankfully they were favorable.

"It is a sound strategy." He said, tapping the mouth of his wine bottle against his chin,

"Thank you Master." I replied,

"But it will be a tight squeeze down below,"

"Certainly,"

"We won't be able to bring tanks,"

"Presumably,"

"They will have Knights,"

"Undoubtedly,"

" _Enough,"_  Arminger burst in ending the wave of holes being poked into my plan. I was thankful yet more astonished. The assault captain stood,

"We are Space Marines," He said, "This is what we do."

Master Bruis broke into a smile, raising up his wine bottle, "Hears to that.  _Victoria!"_

* * *

**|Mark. 79.59.59|**

" _Orks,"_

Even in the silent sanctuary of the reclusium the name of one of Humanity's most pervasive and notorious foes seemed to echo. The mere mention of the Greenskins would have been sure to send a pause through all the bridge crew who had heard it giving undue reason for anxiety and rumors to start flying amongst the mortal crew of the  _Brimming Rays._

But Vaurion had either wisely or luckily chosen to have this meeting, put off for so long, in the shroud of silence behind Mistress Read's command throne on the bridge that could have held six landraiders and still had room to spare.

While the grey robbed master astropath had wisely not wasted anytime, neither the bronze armored Praetor nor the aging Shipmistress had any idea what he meant by with that solitary word.

Arteme Read, veteran of the Pluto exploratory and defense battle groups garbed in her finest black dress uniform gilded with many strands of silver ropes and honor marks with her once shining blond hair slowly turning to steel grey, crossed her arms and gazed at the blind folded mutant with her harsh blue eyes.

"By that…"

The Astropath interrupted her, "The Greenskins approach. I had suspected their presence shortly after the invasion began. Listening for warp calls from the great void, I wasn't certain but now I am."

Arteme however was not, and very succinctly asked, "Are you absolutely sure they are coming?"

"Deathly Mistress…I have been trying to meet with your lordships for days…"

Vaurion gave sigh of frustration and ran a hand over his bald head, "Where are they coming from? When will they strike? How many are there? What…"

The Astropath held up his hands, "My Praetor, my friend, I do not know. All I know is that their howls draw closer."

"Do you have an estimate for their arrival at least?" The Astartes asked,

"Could be a week, could be minutes. They are not here yet, and now you know…"

Vaurion nodded, so the man's task was done, "Thank you, return to your post and alert me if you sense any developments,"

The astropath bowed, "Praetor, Mistress."

He turned and left the empty circle. Vaurion and the Shipmistess looked to one another,

"Well… Who'd have thunk Markus?" Arteme began, trying to give the warrior a smile,

He almost returned it, "Not I my dear."

Gesturing towards the control station for the reclusiam the Praetor started back towards his command position on the bridge while Read powered off the sanctuary.

His armor glowed in the bridge light, drawing the attention of all those myriad individuals present. And his rich voice easily fill the bridge to all corners while the Shipmistress ascended to the command throne.

"Comms officer," Vaurion ordered, "Recall the expedition forces. Priority absolute, all ships are to withdraw and rendezvous with the battle barge immediately at our current position. Get me Commander Centermerius and the Auxillia Generals below."

" _Assume defensive positions."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Blah, blah, blah. Quips and way to much effort put into note and such.
> 
> Well not gonna waste time with excuses, 
> 
> Based Bruis's rant a little off the conversation of Loken and Sinderman or whoever it was in Horus Rising. Thought to have some intelligence dialogue, maybe fumbled, maybe not. I'll let y'all decide.
> 
> Speaking of decisions and all terrain segways. I has an idear,
> 
> Kind of fishing for interaction. But I would like to start building some rules for this version of XIth legion table top army.
> 
> (We'll get to the Primarch time later ye' who now')
> 
> But to start, maybe some special rules about not using night fighting. Contrary to most tactics that I seem to see in youtube battlereports. Force no night fighting, if your opponent has a rule that forces night fighting roll off as normal with no modifiers. And maybe bonuses to movement or reserves if it is no night fighting first turn.
> 
> Something like that give me ideas, Or some rules/ rites of war/ warlord traits that could apply to, an army led by, Master Antinous. Practically a Chaplain Legion Master, I'll let y'all decide.
> 
> You can leave thoughts here or if any of you are spacebattlers I invite you to take this brainstorming session over to that forum where you can publicly share some ideas. It would mean a lot.
> 
> So, share if you care, review as you do. I'll see you when I see you.


	6. Warp Blood

**-/Warning, data file corrupted. Please-**

**…=+Scan complete. Positive / reading]**

**/Code Primaris Accepted/**

**…=+Special materials registered…**

**/Code Secundus accepted/**

**_Proceed with caution Inquisitor::::_ **

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

**[Mark. 79…r((((!*}}]]]]]]]]]]]**

**-( Vanguard _Intruderssss{}SSssstrike teeeaamsssss_**   **Data not found***

**/-(**

**/-(**

**_Thought forrrr_ ** **… Processing. Rendered safe.**

**_{["Welcome to my kingdom Madness. You're just in time for the show…"]}_ **

**_{["Welcome to my world of Darkness. A place where unreal becomes real…"]}_ **

* * *

_Four squads stacked up to the command center's blast doors._

Eight men of the seventh company and one of Bruis's black armored acolytes on my side. And ten of the sixty first on the opposite in this industrial grey corridor. I was sixth in the line of bronze Astartes readying their bolt guns. Dangerous place for a command officer but I felt the worst of the battle was over. We had adjusted the auspex scanners to search for the vibrations of heavy things walking in this subterranean labyrinth, like scout titans often did. Indicative of any Xeno walkers waiting on the other sides of the blast doors we had been steadily burning through for the last hour and a half.

Now all that was left was to take this room. Then we could extrapolate how to safely turn off the great geothermal generators or proceed lower and fry the whole system.

Part of me did wish for the reassuring solidity of the Terminator wing, whose armor and skills would have been perfect for such close quarters fighting. But resistance had been minimal once we punched through the first few levels. Slaughtering the synthetic soldiers and their attendees left to guard this place. There had not been as many of the fearsome Knights as Master Bruis had expected. And those we did encounter did not stand against our hard won lessons of battling them.

But still, I opened the squad vox, "Vibrations?"

"Negative," came the acolyte's reply.

I switched frequencies, "John, execute."

The Captain's crescent bladed battle ax waved out of the line motioning one of the men forward. Bolt pistol and chainsword hung at this brother's waist while his hands cradled a melta bomb. Once he had the device magnetized to the door the Marine ducked back.

Arminger voxed, "Ready."

"Go."

* * *

The assault marines went first, using their blades to avoid damaging the alien controls before we had a chance to study them. And remove the risk of accidentally shooting a brother in the back in such a close space.

Chainswords roared, combat knives and Arminger's axe flashed. Purple blood spilled as my squad entered, caution staying their trigger fingers. But the alien guards and support staff at the consoles had been put down in the short amount of time it took me to finally enter through the molten portal, the acolyte ready at my side ready with his boarding shield, raise my wrist bolter and see there was no threat. So I took to examining the room.

Bright display screens and glowing consoles covered in alien script ran along both sides of this long slanted box we had blasted into. One space of three stations in a half circle dominated the center on a small raised platform. Four giant holo screens hung above the far end of the room, scrolling through hundreds of lines of status codes and facility outlines. The persistent blue glow around us only slightly obscured by sprays of gore.

I took a place at the center of these consoles and opened my vox, "Egli? Are you receiving?"

The mechanicum adept's answer was laced with static, "Bare… ord. Your vox… By."

I sighed in frustration, "You are breaking up adept. Send last again."

The vox remained silent, "Egli?" I asked, tapping the side of my helmet with the bead link.

I looked to Arminger who was kicking through the bodies looking for anything of interest.

"John comm check," I requested,

He flashed a thumbs up, my helmet link crackled half a second later with his voice, "Commander?"

"Reading,"

It was all part of the process, squad links, company links and then orbital links. Closest to furthest. Arminger paused mid stride heading in my direction then struck the knuckles on his shield hand against his own helm. That motion telling me his ship link appeared to be down as well.

"Enginseer respond," I ordered into the ether of static.

"Commander?" the adept replied.

Finally, I growled to myself, before speaking in demand, "Report adept."

"Oh," Egli replied, "Your helmet vox was having trouble reaching us."

"Evidently not now," I noted. Intermittent vox was always a pain.

"No still now my lord, you're not talking to me. I am talking to you with a much louder voice and better hearing. I'm using the  _Brimming Rays_  main communication suite now. No lag guaranteed up to a half AU," The adept boasted, "Your comms should work squad to squad still, just local interference from the power plant. I wouldn't worry about it."

"I hope you saw fit to notify Mistress Read before hijacking her ship's primary systems."

"Nah, its fine. Besides, she needs me to fix the power relays to the officer's lounge later."

"Very well," I replied, "Shall we?"

The enginseer muttered to himself narrating his own actions, setting up our new link, "…Alright. Helmet recorders are in the clear. Show me what you've got Commander."

Slowly I began to pan over the holograms before me, transmitting the images back to the battle barge where Egli waited with the translation program. On the third panel he halted my scan.

"There," The Enginseer indicated, but then clarified before I could remind him of how little that word meant, "Below that center graph. Power levels are holding stable by the way. That line of one centimeter blue bars eight centimeters up, touch the first one please."

Delicately I brought the tip of my right index claw up and then down. Lines of alien script flowed out from another pop up data box. Egli continued talking quietly to himself.

"No that's nothing. Some message to defy the invaders to the last blah blah blah, die with honor moving on… Try the adjacent bar to the right."

"I do not believe this is what we seek Enginseer."

"Yeah," He agreed. "Go to the middle panel, those circular,"

This time the communications dropped out like they had been struck by an ax. The line clicked once and Egli's voice disappeared. I sighed cursing this place. But then beat back the exasperated feeling and choose to act like a Commander.

"Captain Arminger," I called out through my helmet vox,

"We've lost squad comms Commander," My second said, "Moments ago when you were speaking with the Enginseer."

That was problematic, "Blast it… Gather the squads and fall back to the surface. We shall bomb this station from orbit,"

I was looking forward to fighting on the other planets in this system. Where we did not have to restrain ourselves and could use more saturation bombing to weigh the odds in our favor. But the Mechanicus was due its tithe of the bones of alien technology.

The assault captain stepped to my side, "Commander if we disable the core with EM charges this jamming should relent. No need to bother the Praetor."

"You don't know that. We won't be able to call for support should we require it."

Arminger growled frustrated, "We don't need back up, we gather our men and move as one. I grow tired of these alien tricks."

He held up his ax, and tilted his own head as if there was some mutual understanding already.

I found myself nodding, swayed by his words. Tempted by pride, "Very well. Form up Captain, I shall collect the seventh."

But in spite added, "And investigate if this interference is not as severe on higher levels."

* * *

My chosen and the acolyte followed in my footsteps, bolters ready to gun down anything that leapt from the shadows at us. Yet all we saw were the still warm remains of the already dead as we made our way to one of the titanic exhaust vents we had passed through on our way down to the control room. Free space to the sky beneath the Xeno's city forge.

More steps slick with purple blood led us up to the catwalk of our destination. The structure just as impressive as I remembered. The circular spire through which gentle clouds of exhaust steam drifted up from the depths. The blocked off walkway wide enough for a trio of rhinos to drive along side by side. Its radius almost half a kilometer long, one of our brothers had determined with a laser designator.

I clicked my vox once again trying the company frequencies and direct lines to the  _Brimming Rays_  but still found only static filling the airwaves.

_"Commander Skius!"_

My wrist bolter almost came up, the warriors around me flinched. But I quickly banished that startled spike from my chest. It was an Astartes voice dim with distance, calling out my name. I scanned looking for the owner.

Across the vent one warrior emerged from another dirty black metal corridor. The legionnaire's gunmetal grey armor and jump pack coated in splashes and blotches of purple, and red blood. The fifteenth legion Sergeant Vallo, chainsword in his right hand.

_Dragging an alien corpse by the neck in his left…_

Curious I turned up my helmet and chest mounted vox amplifiers as loud as I could, "Sergeant Vallo! Report!"

His head shook, a violent twist to the side and then back. The legionnaire did not appear to hear me.

Vallo raised up the body by its throat, one of the armored pilots. Where he had come across the Xeno absent its steed and killed it I could only guess. Vallo regarded it for a moment, then threw the corpse down the exhaust vent.

"Do you see it Commander?" Vallo yelled out to me rasing his sword, his voice was gnarled into a deep growl.

I did not know what he meant, I flicked two of my right claws signaling my men to move closer. My curiosity was shifting into caution.

Vallo called again, "Can you  _feel_  that?"

"What Sergeant?" I asked him, "What is happening?"

He did not answer me. Vallo suddenly let out a cry of pain and fell to his hands and knees.

Suddenly the squad links came back loud and clear, letting me hear the tail end of Vallo's muttering.

" _…Day be gone and damn the sun."_

"Sergeant?" I called again.

Hi voice was shaking, struggling to come forth in between deep breaths, "I… I can't… Get back…"

I thought he was addressing me. Warning us to stay away. But then Vallo stood and screamed a single word.

" _Daemon!"_

In his right hand Vallo now held another body. Taken up into sight from behind the solid safety rail. A legionnaire, one in the bronze and black of the Dawn Stalkers. I assumed the man was dead at first. Then I saw his right arm begin to rise, grasping for Vallo's choking grip.

At once I knew what was about to transpire.

"Vallo! Stand down!" I yelled raising my wrist bolter, putting away thoughts about his peculiar choice of vernacular for whatever he was describing.

Even over this considerable distance I saw the Sergeant's helmet turn my way. I knew Vallo heard my order, and was dead set on ignoring it.

I fired three shots. The mass reactive rounds leapt forward, the blasts echoing across the chamber. The bolters of my chosen barked as well half a heartbeat later. But none of our shots reached their mark. The shells exploded harmlessly in midair. Vallo reached down and took the right leg of our brother in his left hand and raised him up over his head.

But he hesitated.

Two voices seemed to be coming from the man. A cackle gnarled with interference over the vox.

_"The mass of dark has begun!"_

But then… In the distance… Sergeant Vallo's desperate and cast in an unearthly tone of terror like he realized was about to do.

_"NOOO!"_

Yet the Sergeant cast the still living legionnaire into the abyss. Fury choked my throat, I raised my bolter again to end this mad traitor. Shells flew but still failed to reach Vallo, only this time instead of exploding they reversed their course.

Cold flooded my system, "Down!"

The acolyte crouched and raised his boarding shield. I threw myself flat hearing the snap of parting air behind the mass reactive shells flying past.

Then the heavy crash of Astartes bodies falling dead.

"Bastard!" I swore under my breath, peeking over the heavy railing. Four of my warriors had been decapitated by their own bolt shots. A dull ache of rage centered in the middle of my forehead.

Astartes didn't kill Astartes. The thought was unheard of. It broke every law of brotherhood we were built on. This heinous crime brokered no excuse or justification for its existence. I was going to tear Vallo limb from limb when I got my claws on him for this.

I snarled beneath my helmet, studying the traitor. The other warriors each down on a knee and ceased fire but kept their bolters trained.

Vallo's menacing voice called out again filling the air with a twisted hymn, and he raised his arms up to the ashen sky, " _Let there be night!"_

* * *

The deck beneath my boots began to rumble. My helmet sensors detected a sharp rise in temperature. More steam shot out of the depths like some great beast had begun to exhale.

From far below, a growing light began to cast long shadows up the vent.

_Something at the back of my mind whispered an uncomfortable word. One I had left behind in the dark nights of my childhood._

_Sorcery._

A dark term that had been erased from our vocabulary which left a bitter taste in the back of my throat. But nothing else seemed apt with this display. It was as if I had been teleported into the caldera of a volcano. Heat levels were rising. Fire erupted before my eyes, shooting up like a geyser. Tinted with hues even we Astartes had been taught to beware of.

Deep twists of every shade of red known. Things I had glimpsed before void shielded blast panels shut down on star ship windows entering the Warp.

_"No," I told myself, cold logic soothing my thoughts, "Coincidences all. The Xenos are activating some self-destruct protocol… But Vallo…"_

Metal began to melt around me. Brothers threw up their free hands and backed away from the blazing torrent. I kept flicking my eyes left and right. Knowing Vallo was still on the other side of this. Waiting for the traitor's charge.

A dark blemish began to emerge in the flames. I thought nothing of it at first. But that proved to be a mistake. The spot became larger and larger, a silhouette grown and suddenly shot from the wall before I even realized my error.

Vallo. His armor steaming and starting to blacken, the ruby eyes on his helmet staring down upon me like a gargoyle. His empty hands raised talons set to strike.

I swung up my right arm and the bolter upon it but he crashed into my chest and knocked me flat. Springing off my breast plate at the acolyte. Rolling to my stomach I prepared to gun Vallo down. The Sergeant threw a right hook, denting the black boarding shield swung into place. His left hand swept back towards my chosen and I.

The light faded behind me. An invisible force slammed into me like a ram and before I knew it I found myself flying without the aid of a jetpack. Crashing the back of my knees into the safety rail and sent spinning into the void.

* * *

Others fell, my remaining five brothers sent spiraling to their doom with no hope of survival.

My back struck against the wall. That dull thud bringing my mind to the one chance I had of surviving. I turned myself around and stretched my claws out to grasp the black metal wall. The mono edged points slid through like a hot knife through snow, carving deep as I fell close to ten meters. An earsplitting screech of rending metal sounding all the way down until my momentum was stopped.

My eyes must have been as wide as saucer plates, I felt the urge to shout in amazement as I scrambled for grip with my boots. Dull thuds of ceramite against ceramite cracked above me.

_There was still a traitor I needed to kill._

I raised my left gauntlet and sank the energized points deep into the metal. Kicked my boots down hard denting in footholds. Using all my strength to begin ascending back to the fight.

* * *

The acolyte was bleeding, chunks torn out of him by what looked impossibly like Vallo's bare hands. Red gashes rent from the thickest parts of the black mark II plate. The traitor was ducking and dodging wild swings of the power sword aimed to kill, blocking the improvised jabs of the boarding shield with his red coated hands. The young Diaconus refused to go down easy.

Yet his valiant efforts only delayed the end so far.

Vallo stepped inside the next wide swing, catching the acolyte's right arm by the wrist with his left hand. Then raising up his right elbow and hammered down on the overstretched limb. I heard both armor and bone crack as I threw myself over the rails.

The Sergeant may have lost his sanity, but he still possessed sense for the martial arts. Maintaining his iron grip, he moved beneath the marine's broken arm. Flipping the acolyte head first onto his back. Vallo's boot came up.

I struck before it fell and crushed his black helmet. All ten points of my claws pierced his armored sides and I pushed him back almost chest to chest. Throwing my full weight at the traitor.

From deep in his lungs and helm I heard a bestial snarl, Vallo gripped my shoulder pauldrons and threw a head butt crashing his visor into mine then shoving me back.

Feet braced I swung up my right hand extended to the limit of my reach. Faster than I thought possible Vallo moved and backhanded his right gauntlet into my wrist bolter brushing the lethal talons away. He stepped again and crushed a boot down onto my bending knee.

More in shock than pain I grunted and fell forward. For only the briefest moment, but more than enough for Vallo to close back with the acolyte.

Sickening familiar twin crunches hit my ears and boiled the blood in my veins. It was the sound of cracking armor and flesh rending coming from behind as I turned to face them.

His back to me, Vallo had his both of his hands buried up to the forearm in the acolyte's body. One sank into the warrior's gorget and the other buried in his guts beneath his fused ribs. All this I saw as I moved to fire,

Two shots flew, the last from my bolter's magazine I suddenly realized. The first barely grazed Vallo's kidneys, the second blew a chunk of meat the size of a helmet away when it penetrated and exploded in red mist and armor pieces.

The Sergeant slowly rotated his head back, tearing his hand free of the acolyte's stomach.

Words nearly failed to enter my mind and describe what happened next, as I didn't even believe my own eyes. Unclotted blood poured from the wound, but it didn't spill onto the floor like I had seen a thousand times before. The crimson tide defied all the laws of physics and stayed linked to Vallo's hand.

Growing, turning sharp and almost crystalline as he pulled it away until the red tendrils finally snapped. And the Sergeant's hand was adorned in a twisted mirror of weapons on my own hands.

In his other bloody palm Vallo held another piece of flesh. Something that only apothecaries were supposed to handle once a legionnaire was slain. An unnatural organ each one of us bore within our breast, set in the moment we had begun to transcend humanity.

_"Shall I tell you of your father, creature?"_

* * *

I had not thought a voice could contain such malice, nor sound so vile coming from a Human as Vallo goaded me with into responding.

It worked, I admit it. Black rage crept into the corner of my visions, and an almost inhuman roar leapt from my throat. Stealing all sense of tactics and blade play from my mind.

I swung high then down with both hands looking to shred his helmet. Vallo threw the red glob behind him into the abyss. Another set of bloody claws sprouted on his right hand. He stepped and intercepted my hands with his own. Our fingers interlocked, muscles straining to push the killing blades down

His snarling voice taunted me again, " _Drowning in a sea of tears, and screams of pain…"_

 _No… He could not now, only the Emperor possibly had any knowledge of our lost father. He would know. We would_ know...

"Lies!" I screamed into his face, "Slithering bastard! Witch spawn!"

The Sergeant's helmet turned, cocked like a curious dog at my challenge. As if only now he chose to see me. Our struggle brought the gnashing claws down between our chests.

" _Witch spawn?_ " The words sounded like a question,  _"Does that not include you, Brother? That burning black venom in your veins calls…"_

I snarled and threw my right shoulder into him breaking this sparking dead lock and quickly swung high with my left while I stabbed low from the right. Vallo managed to catch my arms but I proved too strong for him, though I felt the stinging bite of his blood claws tearing into my skin.

"Meaningless words!" I spat back, "Show me steel traitor!"

My left claw wrapped around his skull, screeching and tearing through the ceramite like tissue paper. Leaving brutal scars across the scalp and two deep burning gouges along where his jawline would be, as Vallo pushed back my shaking arm before I could snip his head off like a gardener pruning flowers.

 _"Come brother."_ Vallo hissed, " _I will sooth your deepest fears, and free your brain!"_

I growled back a response. We grappled, trying to bring our talons to bear. Vallo edged out his boot behind one of mine and threw his full weight at me. Maintaining his death grip he turned and threw us to the railing.

The barrier almost buckled beneath our weight. Vallo pinned me down, locking my left arm back and latching his own left hand around my throat. Fending off my snapping claws with his elbow.

Air ceased to flow into my lungs, firey points dug through my bodysuit and skin.

My lightning claws pierced his armor and body again and again but the Sergeant remained unfazed.

Vallo forced my head back and I felt the top of my armor's power back hit my neck. I managed to catch a single breath of air.

_But what I beheld in the distant sky immediately took it away._

* * *

I had heard stories, terrible tales of insanity and ruin. I had read reports and even once seen the results of this upon a ship.

_The Warp was boiling over._

The sky we had spent days fighting under had disappeared. Shifted into a swirling mess of ethereal fire I was being forced to look upon in all of its,

" _Behold!"_ Vallo growled, I managed to force my head down away from the boiling sky, " _And despair! Glory for eternities! To claim the throne!'_

I did. I witnessed something that sent chills into my hearts and would haunt my mind forever.

The glowing lines my claws left on his helmet grew radiant. The laws of physics and thermal dynamics cast out of control. The tortured metal warming again instead of cooling.

_It looked like a smile,_

A gruesome display fit for a leering predator from the blackest corner of a death world. The helmet crumpled and morphed. Those burning cuts becoming a screaming mouth blasting scorching air and a howl of fury that had no place in this world. Molten ingots like teeth dripped between cracked new lips. But between those growing incisors, I saw part of Vallo's face of flesh and blood.

_And his own mouth. Skin covered in bleeding boils. Jaw unhinged and locked open._

_Waiting for a scream of terror that would not come._

* * *

The eyes on Vallo's helmet shone as if they could see right through me. Every fiber of my being was straining to break free. To be anywhere else but here.

I slowly began to force my pinned left arm back up, every centimeter a hard fought victory for my oxygen deprived body. I did not expect to do any damage with this motion. Merely the first part of my final effort to escape, for next I wrenched my arm backwards. Feeling Vallo's claws slide through my skin but freeing my own talons.

Using this liberation to swing them with all my might back at the Sergeant's head.

Vallo tried to block with his right arm.

Which I cut in half.

Sailing forth, my armored palm bounced off his shoulder and crashed into his helmet. Not my desired result of shredding that warped screaming helm, yet I managed to stun the Sergeant and break his hold on my neck.

I threw myself up and forward, launching a gutting stroke at Vallo's stomach. Which ripped his unguarded insides to shreds and sending a spray of blood across the deck as I came to my feet.

Vallo snarled and stabbed with his last blood talon. Swift as a striking snake I clamped down on that wrist with my right. Pulled it back up and down in a jagged rotation, hearing the bone within contort and snap.

Leaving Vallo wide open for my left claw that I stabbed into his shoulder joint, and effortlessly tore his left arm free.

Defenseless, the renegade stumbled backwards. Keeping his eyes on me like a cornered rat. Glowing false teeth bared in a chilling smile that did not move as he tried to taunt me for the last time.

" _Well struck brother."_ He complimented me with a sucking laugh, _"We are impressed… Perhaps there still is a place for your get at this table."_

There was a quiet hiss of pain in his twisted voice this time. Vallo held up his remaining arm, as if to accept his fate and taking another step back.

_"Come offer me your sacrifice, there's no escape. Your path runs with us, not against us. Final truth will set you free. As a slave eternally!"_

My reply was short and succinct.

I punched up from the right. My talons gouged out the numeration proudly centered on his chest and shot out from the top of his skull and helm. Ending Vallo's mad ramblings along with his life an instant before I tore his head off, which I flicked away and sent thudding away into darkness.

There I stood breathing in and out as deep as I could. Still feeling like there was a hand around my throat and ten thousand ants crawling over my skin.

Not for the first time I gave silent thanks to our creator for how resilient He had forged we who were to be His crusade's vanguard. I realized with a cold rush of adrenaline that I must quickly put Vallo's ranting false prophecies to the back of my mind. No matter how many more questions they had left me with.

Logic told me the rampant psyker with all his tricks was dead and those were troubles for another time.

For now there was a solution to the sudden Warp storm overhead to be found.

Far more importantly and pressingly though, I became aware of the sounds of distant bolters.

_A great many bolters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finished getting my LEED Green associates certification. Decided to celebrate with a new chapter. There are Two definite and one kind of reference in the same vein here, happy hunting.
> 
> As always, share if you care. Review as you do. If you can bring yourself to. Think I'll get another two or three chapters done on this before going back to ITGD. Kinda want to finish it before the big thing,


	7. Pride Goeth

**_)))_ ** **\+ Further real time situational updates corrupted beyond recovery. Transcripts contained and destroyed as per commands of the Sigillite.**

 **==== Continuing sources for this record noted from firsthand accounts of Legion Captains cross referenced under debriefing of Captain Skius Centermerius; Seventh Company Eleventh Legion Astartes.** **[C. 850.01.29 M 30.]**

**/**

**[Estimated Mark 81.30]**

**:::: Xeno's strength grossly underestimated. (Theoretical) Potentially tens of thousands of refugees had taken shelter in power plant, unbeknownst to Legion officers.**

**Multiple reports, of unknown madness has overtaken all noncombatants and sent them into a frenzy. -==- Auxiliary machine infantry doctrines appear to have similarly lost all discipline in execution, the synthetics have joined their masters' insane counter charge. Expanse of new behavioral patterns: ( _Unknown_ )**

**/[{}]\ Seventh and Sixty First company positions deemed untenable under mounting casualties [Estimated Mark 81.10]**

**}}}}!Vanguard Commander Centermerius orders retreat to surface.**

-  **Unanticipated Warp interference blocking all communications with orbital forces.**

**/Praetor's instructions Un-received}/**

**Strike group rendezvousing with Diaconus Master Bruis at breach point. Investigation to commence into current circumstances.**

·  **Intermittent contact with Colonel Kenneth. Potential reinforcements en-route, but not anticipated.**

**/:::::/**

**_Thought for the day:_ **

**_"The universe is under no obligation to make any sense to you."_ **

-  ** _Neil Degrasse Tyson_**

* * *

We had entered the labyrinthine underground in a force five hundred strong. I was certain every precaution for entering this zone of death had been taken.

Two hundred brothers and a score of auxiliary units under gunship cover with Master Bruis remained at the surface to watch our backs. We were meticulous, taking our time descending and clearing every space we found. Never spreading out into any groups of less than two squads. Guns on hair triggers, breachers leading the way.

Arminger almost chastised me for cowardice. But I knew our casualties would have been greater had we rushed ahead not supporting one another in a vain quest to tally kills and cover ground.

Fifty brothers had fallen in this foray. Left where they had given their last full measure, and now awaited the apothecaries' grim final duty. Struck down by ambush fire, or were the unlucky who made us aware of Xeno traps. Most fell as a painful reminder of the great power the few Knights we overran still possessed.

And then they came.

The proverbial hornet's nest broken open. Wave after wave, hundreds before thousands of Ra'Chaal and their mechanical constructs rushing out of the deep darkness. Screeching and hissing blood calls in a tongue none knew but all could feel the malice behind. The alien's bodies shifting in color away from the common green into sickly red and tainted orange covered in sores and boils. Each and every one of them frothing at the mouth and screaming their lungs out as they charged.

Sheer weight and momentum forcing our line back. Bolters scythed down constructs and creatures by the dozen. But the cramped spaces short distance and I am not ashamed to admit it, the surprise struck in us by this tactic mitigated the effectiveness of our first volleys.

And they were upon us. Like a swarm of ants stabbing their hands with frenzied unnatural strength into armor joints and soft patches even as they were beaten down and cut apart in melee. Their machines detonated themselves on top of brothers buried beneath alien bodies. Squads were overran within seconds.

I moved through the battle brothers not yet engaged. Ordering them to pull back and head to the exhaust shafts where we could mass and make a stand. Sending runners out to find the others hidden in this underground making my way back to the control room we had breached.

There in the dark metal corridors outside I found Captain Arminger, laying into the horde with his axe. Forced to use his shield more as a second club, covered head to toe in alien gore while his assault marines ripped their chainblades through foe after foe.

Their latest skirmish was practically won by the time I found them. But still I leapt into the fray to do my part.

_Alien blood washing away the traitor's coating my claws._

I stood by my second as the last fell, but I still heard the howls of another wave approaching. Swallowing the sounds of bolters trying to shoot them back in the distance. I had no trouble convincing Arminger to fall back.

He too saw the dire auspex scans.

* * *

Scans which showed potentially no end to this horde, even as we kept killing them by the thousands encircled on the ramparts of three major exhaust vents.

Flamers spewed promethium, heavy bolters and frag grenades sent up sprays of purple mist more than fire and shrapnel. Such was the number of aliens and machines coming for our blood.

How many more brothers had fallen during our retreat I did not know, though judging by the numbers I counted present in our positions. I could assume the number was not insignificant.

So I made the only logical choice.

We could stay here until all our ammunition had been spent and we were slowly dragged under by what I was beginning to theorize could be a million aliens.

Or we could not.

* * *

I did not feel any relief coming out of that abyss to stand beneath the churning skies.

Our auxiliaries had more precise explosives with them. They were the ones who sealed the tunnels as Astartes fired over their heads to slow the horde. Demolishing the entire hub building for good measure.

It was eerily quiet now. This phenomena overhead giving no crackle of thunder nor rain like a mundane storm. All around us the vehicles were powered down and none of the intermittent vox crackles across our force that were always present sounded. The half murdered city was quiet, no sounds of industry or clashing armies echoed in the distance. Mortal and Astartes kept their eyes away from the burning sky and held their breath, waiting for something to break this deathly silence.

Without any order from myself or Arminger the men immediately slotted themselves into the encircling defensive formation. A ring of Predators, Rhinos and the new Chimeras that had been issued to the army. Anchored by eight Land Raiders facing outward, most of those venerable bronze beasts had already been deployed to where they might have found better use on the surface. And in the makeshift network of barricades made from rubble in front of those vehicles. Fortifications maybe fit a mortal and only for a short time at that.

Captain Arminger and I made straight for Master Bruis, his last acolyte and Sergeant Ryder holding our standard high.

"Master Bruis," I began with half a bow in respect, "Do you know what has happened?"

He gave me nod of acknowledgement, statements of the obvious left silent, "No Commander. Have you any communication from Praetor Vaurion?"

"No Master," I told him. Arminger shook his head in denial as well.

Bruis let out half a snarl in frustration, "We've had intermittent auspex readings. Potential incoming from every direction. Though I believe I saw orbital incoming from the south east bearing one oh five half an hour ago. And I nearly raised Colonel Kenneth on the vox at the same time. He knew our objective, perhaps he has taken initiative."

"Perhaps," Captain Arminger said.

Bruis nodded, agreeing to the sentiment, "More so, where is Sergeant Vallo. I would have words with our psyker."

Arminger shrugged, a noisy motion in his armor, "I do not know. I ordered him elsewhere and haven't seen him since this escalated."

He then turned to me expecting an answer.

One I was very reluctant to give,

So much that my pause was sensed by our Diaconus. Bruis turned his head to me.

"Where is Vallo Skius?" He asked me.

I quickly composed myself and spoke, more defensively than I anticipated, "That is of little concern now. I believe it is all too obvious the Sergeant failed to fulfil his duty."

Master Bruis sensed my wariness, "Commander Centermerius, where is Sergeant Vallo?"

"…Dead. He's dead,"

_It was the truth…_

* * *

A new vox crackle saved me from having to elaborate at the moment. Keeping whatever thoughts Master Bruis had for later.

Praetor Vaurion's distorted voice hissed into several helmets at once,

" _…eat. Any Eleventh Legion Officers resp… I… Respond."_

I raised my right claw for silence, the others let me respond, "Praetor. This is Commander Centermerius. I read you."

The vox gave its static filled reply, but I could interpret most of the words this time, " _Skius. Status report."_

"Situation under control. But… Worrying Praetor."

_"Under control?"_

"Afirmative," I said. Silence filled in the next few seconds, "Praetor?"

Vaurion spoke again, " _New directive Commander. Fall back to your staging area and assume defensive positions. Transports shall be arriving within the hour. We are withdrawing to orbit. Do you read?"_

I nodded out of habit, "Yes my lord. We're on the move."

The others heard my words. The little shifts in their stances telling me little about their real thoughts. But they remained silent.

The next transmission that came from the flagship however wasn't a voice.

It was an alarm klaxon. A harsh consistent blare twice a second drowning out what ever calling voice from the sensor stations might have been saying.

"Praetor what is happening?" I asked into the blaring vox,

The interference was back worse than ever, I only caught one word and a handful of syllables before it cut out completely, " _Ca… dit… Proximity…"_

Master Bruis pointed out that single ominous word, "Proximity."

Then our Diaconus looked up to the sky.

My hearts skipped a beat, but Bruis's apprentice beat me to calling out this rash action.

"Is that wise Master?" He asked, pulling back his own half moving hand to get Bruis's head down.

"No," Bruis admitted before continuing his examination. Soon pointing his power-maul almost straight up into the air.

"There, the  _Rays_  is not alone…"

Against my better judgement I cast my eyes to where Bruis indicated. Zooming in with my helmet's features as close as I could.

Indeed there sat the battle barge in low orbit now, the most recognizable and largest shape out of this flotilla of almost a dozen that I could quickly count. Not at all the full force of the fleet that had entered the system.

Now arrayed against twice that many number of newly appeared warships.

_Ork warships._

* * *

Patchwork behemoths like a shoal of scrap-fish, leaking exhaust smoke and energy from their impossibly unstable yet lethal design materializing out of nowhere. Much to the shock of all, both those daring to look into the storm and those on the ships suddenly confronted with a powerful host of hostile Greenskins well within weapons range.

Perhaps the creatures were just as surprised as I assumed our comrades overhead. The  _Brimming Rays_  managed to get off the first volley from its great banks of lance cannons. The most visible weapon to open fire in that battle but not the last. Making at least three smaller ships into false suns to replace the one swallowed by the Warp before the Orks let loose with their wild cannon volleys. Lit there engines and began to close in.

The vox roared to life perfectly clear to every imperial channel it could reach. Mistress Read with an unfamiliar under tone in her cry of orders.

" _Astartes to arms! Security teams to arms! Commence full screening fire, boarding craft incoming!"_

Vaurion appeared to notice this errant broadcast,

 _"Kill those lines!"_ The Praetor demanded, then lowered his voice to give us our next order on more secure channels, " _The Greenskin battleship will be within boarding range in thirty minutes and we can't escape in this blasted storm. I shall attempt to recall the Terminator wing. Yet I need every Legionnaire on the surface to get back to the ship by any means necessary or we will be overrun within five hours."_

* * *

Astartes know no fear.

Yet my hearts were filled with dread. Dread at contemplating being trapped within this cursed storm with the Orks and the Ra'Chaal. Dread at theorizing how we could possibly make it through the city that had become exponentially more dangerous and fulfill our given orders. Dread at pondering how the Tenth Echelon could possibly survive this.

_We were all going to die here._

_I did not simply consider the possibility. This to me was a certainty._

_We were all going to die._

_Lost and forgotten. Simply a mystery to be mournfully lauded by our brothers and avoided by other legions pondering how five thousand Dawn Stalkers could have possibly been so weak to have all been slain._

That thought froze me with a weight I had not been expecting. I didn't hear my brothers for five seconds that seemed to stretch for minutes as they tried to acquire my attention. The incoming threats Master Bruis saw earlier were upon us and more.

From the west pained twisted screeches of electronics heralded more of the natives. Again scores of their now rabid civilians and mechanical infantry. This time accompanied by soldiers who had maintained sense enough to keep their collection of weapons ready to use. And behind the first rows looming shadows of more Knights representing the greatest threat sighting their cannons on us.

Brothers called out from the east side, they too had sighted targets approaching. Not more of the Ra'Chaal as I had expected at first. A signature cry for carnage and slaughter illuminating the nature of these approaching aliens. A cry which broke through the haze set upon me. Growing louder and fiercer,

Until let loose in all its horror as a horde of Greenskins two kilometers wide appeared from the east out of red drenched city ruins.

_"WAAAGH!"_

* * *

Master Bruis stepped away, his white cloak billowing behind him as he raised his black power maul.

"Sons of the Eleventh!" Our Diaconus roared in my stead, "Kindred comrades! Stand fast! The enemy is upon us!"

He pointed his weapon back to those of us standing beneath the rising sun standard, "What do we greet them with?"

Sergeant Ryder and the acolyte answered first, raising powerfist and power sword up with their voices chanting, "Blood!"

Echoed in a heartbeat by every Space Marine.

" _Blood Blood! Blood!"_

* * *

_"There comes a point in adversity when fear disappears leaving only the will to survive."_

I suppose I finally learned the truth of those words that day. Surrounded on all sides in the Warp drowned hive as the violence began. A lesson one of the legion instructors had told my cadre of initiates.

I was at the point where everything disappeared.

_Like what seemed so far away now, when the Ra'Chaal blew the ground out from beneath the legion._

The whole world vanished into the roaring void of war.

Sweeping heavy bolters and vehicle mounted weapons did their part to thin the ranks of enemies. A brace of las cannons and all the missile launches we still possessed targeted the approaching Knights who began to return fire.

Auxiliaries shot low over their barricades, creating a ruby tide of las spreading out in all directions. Bringing down their fair share of foes as Dawn Stalkers aimed high. Thousands of mass reactive shells flew, starting a chorus of ten thousand thunder blasts covering the rain of spent shells rattling at our armored feet and the renewed Orkish battle cry.

But our foes ignored these grievous losses, luckily some began to part around our lines and close in on the other alien force. Our firepower could only hold them back for so long, thousands and thousands of aliens and constructs were shot dead. Infrequent flashes from plasma guns and flame throwers illuminated the battle.

The crude slugs and other exotic alien weapons carried by both hordes did not leave us unscathed. While impacts continually bounced off our armor in uncountable numbers. Many mortals and Astartes cried out and fell as they were shot down. Or were not afforded the opportunity as they were turned into clouds of red mist, shredded flak armor and shattered bronze ceramite.

Our enemies rolled over the corpses piling in front of them and soon the blades were drawn and the melee began.

Mortal soldiers were tackled and bludgeoned to death by frenzied fists. Others were bisected as crude cleavers swung up through and down on the still screaming and firing Humans. Brothers threw down their bolt guns and swept their combat knives and chainswords out of sheaths and mag locks. Shoulder to shoulder they pushed against the green tide.

Power fields ignited along with the jump packs of the sixty first and we joined the fray.

Master Bruis's power maul pulverized Ork and Ra'Chaal like they were paint filled balloons which the Diaconus then fried the remains of with a plasma pistol. His acolyte hoisted his shield and killed aliens with snapping lunges of his power sword, warding the back of his master.

Sergeant Ryder kept to my side, picking shots with his wrist mounted bolter as he held our flag aloft. Weathering the storm always sent at him as he always did with stoic pride.

A bare chested brute of a Greenskin raised its axe and charged for the standard. Arminger stepped in its way raising his own blade as if he aimed to sunder the chopper. Spit coated his visor. The assault captain returned its roar of challenge. When at the last possible second, in the blink of a superhuman eye John ducked changed my expected course of his weapon and hacked off the Ork's right leg at the knee.

Its roar cut off into a squawk of surprise, ended soon after when its jaw fell onto my raised right claw.

* * *

_Different instincts were taking over me._

I gutted two Orks with one wide strike. Pivoted and drove the claws on both hands into the mouth of another and parted his snarling face like I was swimming through blood.

_Primal, not anything learned through an armsman's blade teachings._

Swinging up I ripped through three more synthetic soldiers breaking into the heart of their pack. Small arms clattered off my bronze shoulders,

_More like mad flailing than measured cuts and thrusts, limited by the range of my arms. Animal movements, taking form of a beast striking at any opening I saw._

And that was fine.

This was a pure fight for survival. Every strike was a killing blow into the plethora of enemies laid before me. Chainswords and stabbing knives flashed at the edges of my tunnel vision on occasion. Enemies fell beneath the shadow of death my trailing black cloak cast over the ruin of flesh in my wake.

Checking the chronometer of my HUD would have been a fatal mistake in this brawl. I did not know how long I walked and slaughtered through these creatures. I thought I saw a Knight step close at one point. The next thing I truly remember was arriving at a space in between our transport ring and the back of a blocky Land Raider Proteus.

Memorable because of the two green arms one that ended with a power claw, which suddenly wrapped around my stomach and pulled me up into the air.

I gave a shout of surprise as the Ork flipped us both backwards and crushed me headfirst into the black ferrocrete. Stunned for a moment I rolled onto my stomach, claws marking the ground. Blindly kicking out behind me and feeling a solid crunch that elicited a yelp of pain from the green beast.

I rolled again, back now pressed against the Land Raider. The Ork latched onto my utility belt with its free hand. Raising its own claw back to ram down into my guts.

As I rose to intercept him a volley of las bolts broke on his scrap armor from the front and back. Four mortal soldiers rushed to my aid, three probing for weak points with their bayonets the last their sergeant swinging a chainsword to split its skull open.

The Ork let go of me, back handing one soldier away so hard its' fist crushed his fully enclosed helm like a melon. Then the beast darted its claw forth and cut the chainsword in two.

From my position I put three mass reactive rounds into its face, saving the sergeant fumbling with the holster of his pistol. The three auxiliaries went back to back as I came to my feet, still firing at whatever threats they could see in this madness.

 

Snaps of parting air from near misses and the distance muffled explosions told me little of the situation. Again I could only theorize we might be fighting millions of foes with no way out. Caught between the hammer of the Orks and the anvil of the Ra'Chaal we could never kill enough of them to break free.

During this pause in the bloodshed as the adrenaline flowing hard through my veins subsided for a moment. And a new noise blasted away the ringing in my ears.

The war horns on Colonel Kenneth's Stormhammer sounding as the super heavy lurched over a small rise on the edge of the battlefield.

Mortal soldiers and some Astartes cheered where they could, a few raising their weapons aloft in salute. The Orks mostly had enough sense to pause and become aware of the gun laden monster and how little their current forces could do to it. The Ra'Chaal did not even hesitate to continue their rampage.

The quad las cannons blew Knights apart, sending mechanical limbs and deadly shrapnel flying. Its heavy flamers sprayed promethium wildly melting flesh to bone and liquefying metal. Eight sponson heavy bolters opened fire, tracer rounds streaking into the hordes while the massive treads crushed everything in its path.

The four battle cannons and the demolisher lined up their targets.

The colonel's voice blared out over loud speakers.

" _Die Xenos! For the Emperor!"_

_Then he fired straight into the heart of our formation._


	8. Madness

**_"_ ** **_Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,"_ **

**_"_ ** **_In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of the Head Wolf is Law."_ **

* * *

_I didn't even have time to be astonished._

Nor hear the crack of explosives.

The force of whichever shell landed closest smashed me into the back of the Land Raider. Denting my helm with the force of the impact. Down I fell, like a puppet with its strings cut after bouncing off the rear armor plating. Stunned and now waiting the short time for my physiology to recover.

The mortals at my side were not so fortunate.

Shrapnel had slashed the troopers to pieces. Two were dead and the sergeant was now on the ground screaming for his life. Light from burning vehicles casting long flickering shadows up the back of the Land Raider.

Once the ringing in my ears stopped I was able to listen and locate the Stormhammer somewhere, with my current orientation, below me. Hearing the treads grind as it turned still firing its sponson weapons. Lining up for another cannon volley.

One we could ill afford to weather. I scanned to the right, looking at once was more than five hundred Astartes. Rhinos and Chimeras burned, lighting bloody ruins of dead brothers scattered with broken weapons and armor everywhere. There must have been hundreds fallen.

I tried clicking on the vox, rolling to my stomach and shouting on an open channel, "Kenneth! You hit legionnaires! Cease fire! Cease fire!"

My words un-heeded the tank fired again, luckily this time a barrage more in the direction of the Orks. However the other weapons were still in prime position to kill more Imperials. Something I knew as one of the heavy bolters gunned down two of Arminger's men who crossed my twisted peripherals.

Bright blue flashes of more las cannon fire pulsed in the growing smoke cloud. One of our Land Raiders trying to take down the Stormhammer. The super tank pivoted again and returned fire.

"Blast it! Bastard!" I cursed, coming to my feet. Moving back to the inner circle wracking my brain to find some way we could stop that thing. It was certainly doing what it was designed to do, reaping bloody tolls on infantry. I doubted I could muster enough of our heavy weapons to focus on cracking that armor in this insanity.

Another Greenskin rounded a chimera transport, swinging its cleaver in both hands for my head.

Narrowly I dodged beneath the jagged edge which scrapped through my helmet plume and embedded in the vehicle's side armor on my right. I speared my claws forward, catching its muscled forearms and wrenching them wide open. The blades flashed again in a cross, left then right eviscerating the brute.

My right palm landed on its howling face. With ease I slammed the Ork against the APC, pulled back and put a bolt round in its mouth.

An Astartes squad emerged from the smoke, multiple command numerations visible on their armor. Three of the five hailed from the three hundred and first company, another from the seventy ninth and the last from my seventh. They moved easily in the hard worn patterns, scanning for more targets with their bolt guns.

"You there, form up!" I called to the warriors,

The lead marine knifed his left hand at me, "To the Commander! To the standard!"

The sound of the ruffling flag somehow hit my ears through the chaos. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Sergeant Ryder standing tall with our ragged emblem still held high. I ran to meet him and take cover between the two Rhinos the Sergeant stood between.

Yet more corpses of Orks, Astartes and Humans covered the ground behind Ryder, some obviously struck down by his powerfist. The others in various states of death and dismemberment.

Together we ducked into what little shelter the two vehicles offered. I knelt down on one knee, Ryder knelt beside me, the flag braced back against his left shoulder. The others turned and crouched looking for targets.

"Orders Commander?" Our standard bearer asked,

There were none that I could think of this moment that I felt would make any difference. The aliens appeared to have either fled before the Stormhammer rampaging through. Or had turned on their other filthy kinds leaving we Astartes be for the moment. But that could change in a heartbeat. And we had our new orders to consider.

_I was beginning to think we should run._

Break up and disappear into the shadows, call who we could to our side and try to make a run for the staging grounds. Which may or may not have been overrun already or try and shoot us on sight. A place which lay on the other side of this forge city devolving into madness and anarchy. It was an impossible task.

Dull thuds of weapons striking flesh and armor drew closer with the battle. The Stormhammer fired again, pulverizing a Land Raider and the heavy weapons teams arrayed in front of it.

At that moment, watching more brothers die pointless deaths. With the weight of certain doom on my shoulders I made a choice.

Focusing my mind on the small tasks. Simply driven by a black need for vengeance.

I turned my head back, "You there, seventy ninth company."

The Marine backed close to me,

"Commander?" He asked,

"Can you drive a Rhino?"

* * *

It felt like we were walking a horse out to pasture at the side of the transport. The vehicle moving at an easy walking pace while Sergeant Ryder and I moved alongside it with our left hands braced against its armored hull. Waiting for the signal.

Four others from that squad of orphaned legionnaires had double timed it across the killing ground. If fortune favored us they would be giving their sign any second now.

_I heard it._

Two distinct pops preceding the flares fired up over the battlefield. And then one more two heartbeats later, the phosphorus light casting a bright glow over the red tint of Warp light on the battlefield. The others were on the way. It was up to us now.

Ryder knocked his fist on the side of the Rhino. The driver maxed out the accelerator.

Heading straight for the Stormhammer.

We only had one chance. One shot to immobilize the behemoth and get on board with Ryder's powerfist then do some damage.

The shot was perfect.

The superheavy turned to face the oncoming Rhino, I could picture its traitorous crew scrambling to reload. Someone screaming at the sponson gunners to focus. Ryder and I broke into a run.

The Rhino slammed into the front right of the Stormhammer. Wedging beneath those massive treads. Slowly forcing the mass of adamantium and guns up off the ground, the tank making its situation even worse by trying to roll forward and crush this nuisance. Metal squealed in torment as the Rhino was compressed.

Just when the tank seemed set to break free a second Rhino emerged from the smoke and rammed into the hovering tread from the right. Driving in like a wedge, pushing over and immobilizing the Stormhammer.

My lips curled up in a predator's smile. Ryder and I charged for the listing left side. One las cannon fired a hasty shot, luckily only gouging a new mark in the ground on our right.

Together we grabbed onto the edge of the armor plating. Pushing ourselves up onto the broad surface as the tank belched smoke and shifted gears. Rolling back over the two crushed Rhinos as we sprinted to the hatch directly above the Colonel's command seat.

Ryder slid on one knee then slammed his powerfist down like a grasping claw at the edge of the hatch ripping it open like a tin can.

I arrived at his side and we both aimed our wrist bolters down inside.

Kenneth pushed himself back arms wide across the array of controls at his side like he was trying to merge into his command seat. His tactical helmet lit by glowing green screens projecting night vision displays from all of the tank's guns and view ports.

My acute senses detected a distinct odor filling the compartment, a dark spot spread across his trousers.

"For the Emperor?" I snarled, blood roaring into my ears.

The tanker tore his helmet free quickly, not bothering to go for the las pistol at his side or another hidden weapon.

"Commander?" He gasped in shock, blinking his wide blue eyes.

"Any last words, traitor?" I demanded, tensing my arm for the recoil about to come.

The Colonel had no words. None would have saved him.

But as the old adage goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

We still almost shot him right then and there. Kenneth quickly reached over to one screen linking the demolisher cannon to his perspective. Pulling it over on an extendable arm and holding it up to us.

Such a flimsy device wasn't going to block any sort of projectile let alone a mass reactive shell. Still I paused, zooming in on the image.

The Stormhammer was facing the heart of our broken bastion. The cannons lined up to kill even more. But the gunners were frozen in fear at the sudden breach of their dark abode.

_I saw no Astartes in its sights._

Vaguely I recognized the outlines of our transports, buried beneath scrap work effigies spikes and savage totems. And surrounded by only Orks.

Twice I looked back and forth between the static laced camera and the battle. The men of the three hundred and first company ascended the other side of the tank, seeking proper targets for the melta bombs they had acquired.

I looked to them and raised my right hand, "Hold!"

My anger had only risen at this revelation. But still something stayed my wrath, as Kenneth muttered and begged for forgiveness his head down rocking back and forth exposing his neck for the kill I spoke.

"Colonel," I spat, the man looked up to me, his face paler than the surface of Luna, "Train all weapons to the forward arc and turn this tank around. Sergeant Ryder will call your targets."

Quickly I turned around showing Kenneth my tattered cape, looking to Sergeant Ryder who gave me a nod of acknowledgement.

More engines rumbled across the battlefield, two of the remaining Land Raiders pushing side by side through the carnage ramming burning vehicles out of their way. In between them a force of battle brothers bearing melta guns and rocket launchers behind Master Bruis and his shield bearer acolyte marched.

I held up my right hand signaling them to halt. Master Bruis saw this and gave a shout raising his cudgel. The Stormhammer began to turn. I jumped down absorbing my impact with the ground on bent knees.

* * *

Despite the damage the tanker had caused we were beginning to rally and drive the aliens back. Most of the Ra'Chaal left in this wave had started to wander off to parts unknown while the rest of the Orks were finally being slain. Most of the marines left were giving the last of the wounded Xenos the mercy stroke, to put them out of ours not their own, where they lay choking out their last breaths on the ground. Under the direction of Sergeant Ryder the Stormhammer fired a volley into their comrades retreating forces to speed them on their way.

I approached and lowered my head in respect to Master Bruis, "The tank is secure Master. They had a… Fault in the targeting system."

"Faulty equipment eh?" He asked me, raising a suspicious eyebrow beneath his black helm, "Do I need to have a word with our Colonel?"

I shook my head, "No Master."

"Good… That was fine work Skius," He looked to the men, "Prepare to move out! Get the wounded in Rhinos. Apothecaries, you have ten minutes for the dead."

Our Diaconus made to walk away, to where I did not know. But he stopped. Seeing my own tense reserved pose.

"What is it Commander?" Our Diaconus asked me.

I took a breath, steeling myself to say what I felt had to be said, "Forgive me sir, I don't know if we can do this."

I gestured out to the city raising one arm ushering him to behold the mad house it had become, "Can we even make it through the city? Forgive me but I must question the feasibility of fulfilling the Praetor's orders …And it worries me. How much of our genetic legacy did we already lose down in those tunnels, and on this bloody field?"

_How much more would we lose left unasked,_

Bruis did not cuff me on the ears for seditious thoughts or try and shout me into submission as I expected, he spoke to me.

"Things we always have to consider and overcome in any campaign Commander," He said,

I nodded in acknowledgement, "But now more than ever… We aren't prepared for this. Even the laws of nature could be thrown out the window at any second. Should we even try to make it to the staging grounds, or even to the  _Rays_?"

Bruis looked up to the sky, his tone a quiet one, "You know… In another life I might agree with you… But it is not our lot Commander."

He reached out and laid his left hand on my right shoulder, "We have our orders. And you know as well as I do we can't lose that ship. Ours as always is not to reason why. Ours is but to do or die. We are Astartes, and there is nothing we cannot do. That is why we are."

So with that Master Bruis lightly struck his knuckles on my chest and turned again, waving his power maul to draw the focus of more Space Marines wandering in from the chaos.

"Forward brothers," He called over the vox, "The shield-burgh walks."

* * *

Surprisingly, we were not ambushed as we made our way through the city. Though I expected one at every turn into deeper and deeper shadows.

Kenneth led our convoy in the Stormhammer, eager for redemption. Ryder at the open hatch watching for any signs of hostiles to identify for the crew. Captain Arminger and his men followed on foot, bursting their jump packs to keep pace and skim across the blood stained, rubble strewn ground. They were followed by a brace of Rhinos side by side then a Land Raider. The first of which bore Master Bruis and his little entourage. This formation repeated down the line with Rhinos and the few Chimera's needed to transport the auxiliary survivors.

I was near the middle, standing in one of the Land Raider's observation hatches. Watching the unnatural Warp light play havoc on my night vision. Punctuated by the infrequent blasts of ships exploding and potentially thousands more dying in low orbit. Shadows darted below them, near the tops of the maybe abandoned maybe not hive spires. Some shapes descended low enough to recognize as Ra'Chaal single rotor drones, others as Ork craft. Dodging around each other like crows mobbing hawks. Shooting plasma bolts and slug weapons at everything in the sky.

But I dared not divert my eyes. Tense and waiting for a threat I knew had to be only a few steps into the dark unknown around us.

Not seeing any would have been eerie enough. But there are things I saw in those urban chasms some part of me wishes I could forget.

Great pits of fire with the leering skull faces of Xenos being burned alive. More and more willingly walking in silence from the other side to fall to their fiery doom as if in a trance. Empty eye sockets silently watching us as we drove by.

Remnants of some sort of skirmishes lost brutally. Knights kneeling or sitting defeated with massive pulsing blobs of flesh where their pilots would sit. Tendrils reaching out to idle or broken phalanxes of autonomous infantry. While a soft rain of smoke and sparks drifted over these funeral pyres.

Once a solitary Knight on one knee next to a hole in a spire, reaching into the darkness and pulling out Ra'Chaal. Creatures much livelier than most we had seen in this city of madness. Each screaming as the machine took them, apparently fully aware of what was about to happen. One by one the machine pulled off their arms and legs and throwing each dismembered part onto a separate pile behind it. Its photoreceptor tracking our convoy and even locking onto myself when we passed. Its purple coated hands never pausing in its gruesomely meticulous task.

The scenes of a planet and a species losing their sanity.

Reminders of what we had to face,

Warnings that hinted how quickly the Warp could corrupt.

That nothing was safe from its malevolent touch.

* * *

To their credit, the mortal soldiers had done a fairly decent job in fortifying our encampment. Something I truly didn't appreciate until facing it from the outside with the possibility of storming it nibbling at the back of my mind. Staring down auto cannon emplacements in bunkers on five meters of quickly sealing ferrocrete walls below missile turrets strung with humming razor power wire lining the killzone that was the only way into our base.

The Stormhammer halted, Master Bruis's Land Raider and mine moved up to flanking positions on either side. We were well within visual range, but it remained to be seen what that meant.

Seconds ticked by in silence, no challenge was given on either side. The vox remained adamantly silent.

Growing irritated, Captain Arminger began to walk away from our lines into the gunsights alone. I had half a thought to call him back, but I needed to know. No matter how I imagined at any moment my second would be cut down.

He carried on, step after step, meter after meter. Boots crunching as he went.

I saw barrels swivel to track him.

Just when I was set to give the order to open fire a booming vox voice called out from somewhere in this mini-fortress.

" _Whatever you are selling we don't want any!"_

A form followed those words. Rising from the man made hills was the unmistakable sight of a Contemptor Dreadnought, exhaust smoke rolling up from its back. Ancient Passanius called out again to the Captain below him, "Greetings John… You weren't planning on laying siege to your own base were you?"

Arminger raised his ax and shouted back, "Let us in you walking scrap pile! Or it's back on the table!"

The Dreadnought laughed, then nimbly raised one of his powerfists and waved to our armored column. I let out a little sigh of relief then clicked on my vox, "Sergeant Ryder, the door is open. Don't forget to wipe your shoes."

Our standard bearer gave a rare huff of amusement, "Aye sir."

* * *

There were far fewer Stormbirds than I expected idling in the landing zone. Only nine of the immense craft had touched down in front of the main entrance to the structure we had been using as a headquarters. But perhaps they were enough for what Astartes we had left.

While we marched on the Xeno power station the rest of the Vanguard had been deployed across the city while four companies of one hundred each had been left with our allies in this base. Who were all that we found present upon our return. We couldn't afford to waste more time waiting for those that might already be dead. The Vanguard had to make haste to the flagship's aid as soon as possible through the rumbling warp storm.

Men disembarked from the vehicles and made their way to the Stormbirds, once one was packed full we moved onto the next. Master Bruis and I watched this process from the steps of the headquarters glancing over the top of Kenneth's tank.

Meanwhile Passanius and several other ancients, a handful of Contemptors, pairings of squat Castaferrums, a few walking Deredeo gun platforms and even a mighty Leviathan silently lined up at the foot of the wide marble stairs.

The tank commander disembarked his vehicle and made his way through the towering bronze ancients with his head down to us. Wisely keeping silent about previous events.

From the building emerged a set of officers from the imperial army. Some in battle armor, others in dress uniforms and fur cloaks. And one the mirror image of the barbarians who had fought, in the loosest of terms, alongside the Vanguard days ago.

One bore the stars of a general, a man black bearded broad chested and tall in his dark long coat came to speak with the voice of the others, standing at the side of Kenneth who nervously gripped his many eyed helm.

The general spoke, a hint of nervousness in his deep voice. Affirmed by his words, "My lords?... Where are you going?"

Master Bruis replied, "To the Praetor's side. Lord Vaurion has summoned the Vanguard to the defense of the  _Rays."_

"And… What are our orders, Sir?"

They have none, I thought to myself. It wasn't even a consideration once the Praetor had given command. There was nothing the Army could do know that would further our chances to victory.

_What exactly such a victory would look like I myself didn't even know._

Our Diaconus looked down on the general, "Your orders stand. Purge the Xenos and secure the planet."

"But my lord…" Colonel Kenneth tried to begin, interrupting the black armored marine. Bruis held up one hand, his voice iron hard. A dangerous tone to hear for a mortal.

"I will indulge you this once in trying to convince me to do anything other than fulfill my oaths and aid our Praetorian. But… It had better be a damn good reason..."

"My lord," The general began, "We will not survive this without your support. It is only a matter of time before the Ra'Chaal or the Greenskins mount a serious offensive on our position and we are severely understrength as it is… Please Master Bruis, Commander Centermerius. Don't abandon us here."

Kenneth chimed in, "Its suicide going up there. M-Might it be wiser to entrench here and wait for the Warp Storm to clear?"

Bruis paused for only a moment, "Perhaps… But if the Battlebarge is destroyed it will only be a matter of time before the rest of the fleet falls. That ship, is our only hope of ever leaving this rock. If the  _Rays_ falls we all fall."

He looked across the fearful faces of soldiers who were light years out of their leagues, "So, your orders stand. Dig in and continue fighting. We will return for you if we can soon enough."

"And if you do not?" The general asked,

Bruis answered without hesitation, "Die with honor."

* * *

_I saw the despair wash over every mortal._

A feeling I had hidden behind my helmet and training splayed as plain as day on men with much less discipline. It wasn't often these men knew without a doubt that they were going to die. I feared that Master Bruis had just broken them.

_And possibly that they might turn on us then and there, for if they had nothing left to lose and their betrayers were about to leave their grasp._

Bruis stared them all down, the Dreadnoughts below us rumbled sensing trouble,

"It matters not our chances for survival. You all swore oaths, oaths to follow commands and serve our Emperor," The Diaconus began, "Oaths you knew could mean your death one day. Just as we all did. As we Astartes know we too are probably flying to our deaths, but we do not hesitate. We too have our orders. And we do not whine about following them."

Bruis paused for breath, "But, for whatever it may be worth now you have my word. We will come back for you."

Mentally I added, " _If we can._ "

* * *

With nothing left to say Master Bruis turned around and marched to the Stormbirds, ready to depart this cursed world. I took one last look at the men who were looking to their comrades. One by one their heads hanging low as each came to terms with the idea that these would be their final moments in quiet whispers I chose to ignore.

_For I had a feeling we would never see any of them again…_

So I walked away, heavy steps carrying me to the Stormbirds. Following my men and Master Bruis onto the much harder path. The Legion's path, one always down the harshest roads.

_Vaurion had given commands._

I looked up to the Dreadnoughts, Passanius at their head,

"Come brothers," I called,

They did not follow.

Curious I halted in my steps. The Ancients looked to each other, vox clicks crackling between them in silent conversation. Passanius finally looked down to me,

"I do not see my recovery vessel there Commander," The Contemptor stated.

I raised one unseen eyebrow beneath my visor, "We'll make room. Come on."

"By doing what?" Passanius asked, "I would take up twenty spaces alone."

His helmet focuser lowered along with his voice, "I am not worth twenty young ones…"

I sensed his unsaid point, but realized what it could entail, "…Are you sure?"

The Dreadnought chuckled, trying to make light like he always did while so often he hadn't when the Sergeant was still whole, "I'm not taking the chance I'll be blasted out another hull breach. My next death shall be on solid ground… And we shall lend our might to the auxilia for as long as possible."

_And all die here._

As if sensing my thoughts the ancient spoke, simple words for a simple fact, "This is our choice Commander… We only ask, you speak well of us when our genefather is returned."

I bowed low and crossed my arms on my chest in the Aquila, "I swear brothers. He will know your names…"

As one the old warriors bowed their machine bodies in return, many voices speaking as one that sent chills down my spine,

" _My name is Legion."_


	9. Any Means Necessary

-  **Inquisitors note. "While all of the Astartes situational updates had to be destroyed following the incident of 375-13 there remained two untainted logs recovered from the battle barge. Curious yes. But deemed to be a benign accident. Sources for examination of these can be provided upon request. What follows is a system vox record of the last servitor shorthanded time log of Shipmistress Arteme Read sworn to the tenth echelon of the Dawn Stalkers. Second log to be examined further in this report."**

**_(ESTIMATED MARK 26654…) XXX DISREGARD XXX_ **

**[Estimated Mark 83.15.]**

**_\- Alert. Ork Flag Ship has rammed and lodged upon the Starboard side of the_ ** **Brimming Rays _._**

**Dest. All Users- "The Greenskins have boarded."**

**: All decks Red Alert. Seal bulkheads and transit routes. Quarter Masters begin general weapons distribution. Security teams Defense Stance alpha zero one. Secure vital areas.**

**_Priority Absolute. Ext Praetor Officium, Shipmistress Secretariat. Dest All Users. Terminate any Astropaths or Navigators encountered with extreme prejudice._ **

**=Intruders sighted on Decks A,B,C,D… (Read more.)**

**\- CCIC Sights major force heading for Port side gun batteries. Starboard side completely overwhelmed. Airlock controls not responding. Contingency Zeta no longer an option. All hands abandon the starboard gundecks. Addendum: Seal transit routes and bulkheads T-Minus 4 minutes**

**Engineerium reported sealed for the moment by Adept Egli. Magos Dominus Struebacher not responding. Inconclusive reports of an HVT attempting to gain entry.**

**(Secondary vox whispers most likely from the Praetor, transcribed as) - "…Bastards will pay for that… If any Astartes can hear this, the hangar bay is completely overrun. I repeat, the Orks have taken the embarkation deck. You're going to have to find another way on board brothers."**

**} Seventh Company warriors have broken into the Destroyer Vaults and taken entrenched positions in the command deck. All command deck security personnel ordered to report to the Bridge. Three minutes till we seal ourselves in.**

**/**

·  **Auspex and Vox reports concur**

**-(Vanguard flight en-route to the _Brimming Rays_.**

**-(Seventh Company Terminator wing en-route to the _Brimiming Rays._**

**:;Estimated arrival. Ten Minutes.**

**/**

**Thought for the day.**

**_"I am born to kill judge and condemn. I am born to win slay and maim'em. I am born to live, fight for glory. I am born to die."_ **

-  **Alleged final words between XIth Legion Master Antinous and Lord Malcador the Sigillite before the Astarte's unauthorized strike on rebel forces approaching Eternity Gate while His Majesty was off world.**

* * *

" _Flight this is Vanguard One, do you read? Send last again please…"_

Diligently and without waiting for orders the mortal pilot thrall had attempted to answer the Praetor's last vox blurt warning us of the situation on the flagship.

Vaurion said the Orks had taken the hangar, and I could believe it. Looking out the wide viewport through the void to the rapidly growing silhouette of our Battle Barge and the Greenskin monstrosity latched onto the starboard side like a carnivorous fish we approached from below.

Surrounded on all sides by the debris of three fleets.

The dead metal carcasses of the Ra'Chaal not yet fallen into the atmosphere to burn from days ago. And this new mix of Ork and martyred Imperial ships all turning into one unrecognizable floating miasma of scrap which our Stormbirds were weaving through. The 375th had taken most of the Greenskins with them before being destroyed. Yet four smaller ships remained, excluding the beast currently mauling the  _Rays_. Those were trading fire with the last Frigate remaining of the 375th expedition force. A ship now pulling back from the deadly brawl the two flagships were currently locked in.

Perhaps it was a happy accident, or an intentional ploy by the Shipsmistress. Either way the Orks had followed their prey right into the firing lines of the  _Ray's_  port broadside lance cannons.

Beams of blue stabbed out and made the three lead vessels explode like nuts hit with a thunderhammer. The survivor raked the flaring starboard void shields with cannon fire as they tried to come about and escape the deadly weapons.

I twisted and craned my neck to try and see the fate of the ship they had been pursuing, looking straight "above" our Stormbird.

The frigate hung there, engines flaring as it swam through the void. And to myself it looked like they were coming dangerously close to the true edge of the Warp storm. About to begin skimming the rolling flames that had trapped us in this system.

_A decision I believed their captain instantly came to regret._

* * *

Once again I came to doubt the truthfulness of what I saw with my own two eyes.

As the frigate drew closer, the Warp fire suddenly lashed out at the ship.

_In tendrils that to my unbelieving brain looked like a hand._

Dragging the poor, unfortunate crew into the storm. Out of sight and reality.

A shocking sight. But there was nothing to be done now. I turned my attention back to our flight. The chills running up my back dying down under something to focus on. The pilot made to slam the accelerator forward but I raised my hand and halted him. The mortal chose not to question my orders. But another noted the suddenly sedated pace of our dropship.

" _What is it Commander?"_  Master Bruis voxed in from another Stormbird.

I answered Master Bruis with a thought itching in my mind, "I am pondering where we should board."

" _Pardon?"_

"The hangar is overrun Master. We would be facing a hot landing under fire. I know it would take more time but I believe it would be prudent to…"

My words trailed off into nothingness as my enhanced eyesight picked up seven new rocket trails ascending towards the wrestling ships. Master Bruis noted this silence,

" _Skius?_ " His static drenched voice asked,

"I'll be damned…"

* * *

Down to my left, many kilometers distant still the Terminator wing was on approach.

Their flight of Caestus assault rams soared, burning through their fuel reserves like a formation of sky-borne sharks moving in for the kill. Twice I managed to convince myself that the Sergeant Naylor wasn't planning what he appeared to be planning. And then otherwise with the evidence right before my eyes.

He getting on board the  _Rays_ , in the most direct way he knew.

I tried to open a vox link, "Sergeant? Sergeant Naylor can you hear me? Assault flight respond…"

There was no telling how much damage the twin nosed craft could cause blowing melta charges and smashing through armor decks. Especially now with the flagship already stricken and injured. And it just didn't sit right with me. This was our own ship!

Again I tried to reach the Terminators, "Sergeant, turn back and wait for boarding instructions. That is an order!"

I was almost relieved when the giant warrior's reply came into my ears, until I deciphered the static laced vox.

" _What's that Commander?"_ He asked, loudly and clearly, " _I can't hear you!"_

"Sergeant," I growled at his defiance, but it was too late.

The rams performed a perfectly executed tight formation roll. One last rocket booster blasted these half dropship, half ballistic missiles up and straight into the port side of the  _Brimming Rays_ , disappearing in distant puffs of escaping atmosphere and armor plating.

I winced but luckily the ship appeared to be holding. A credit to the Mechanicum's gifts to the legion. The rams had crashed into the ship directly above the very visible and still holding atmospheric shield of the embarkation deck. Its own armored doors having been pulled back for our vessels and never resealed for when it appeared to be our most likely point on board, until the Orks attacked that section of the ship.

At this very moment our elites could have been up to their necks in Greenskins, fighting their way most likely down to the hangar.

Trying to clear it for us.

Master Bruis hailed us again, urgency and ire slight but clear in his tone, "Commander…"

I voxed out to the whole Vanguard before the Diaconus could start another lecture,

"All ships, make for the hangar. Follow that mad bastard."

* * *

One need not be a psyker to predict the future. Logic had told me all I needed to know to make my own prophecy. One that was coming true in the hangar as my Stormbird came aboard.

 _Madness_ ,  _it was shear madness…_

Small pockets of crew drawn from hiding, nowhere near the thousands that had once been in the hangar, were firing what small arms they could into the rear of the Ork horde. The mass of trespassing Xeno's had turned from their rampage, probably thinking themselves the luckiest creatures in the universe at this moment. As seventy gleaming terminators blew out the ceiling and jumped down into their midst.

Black powerfists vaporized the first creatures they struck. Bolters and plasma blasters ripped ragged holes in the green ranks before the blades swept out and the slaying truly began.

Crude axes and cruder slug weapons hammered against the thick plate armor. Another Ork battle cry boomed out like artillery fire, even shaking our armored view screen. But the XIth legion warriors stood tall, resolute and in-dominatable. Longswords flashed, hacking off limbs and heads. Paragon blades, hybrids of spear but mostly sword with long stave grips cleaved up and down cutting the beasts in half.

This spectacle of violence I watched as my craft floated into the hangar. The pilot lit the maneuvering thrusters to keep us aloft as the copilot spun up the mega bolter on our nose.

Two other craft at our back let loose with us into the green tide. Carving trenches of fire and shredded meat in their ranks. Careful to avoid the Terminators, though firing much closer than we would have had they not their tactical dreadnought armor.

From the depths of the ship, a new force of Greenskins howled and raced towards the melee. The cream of the Xeno's crop. Nobs, both armored and not eager to put their power claws and hammers to use and get their share of the glory,

And Medrad Naylor moved to oblige them.

He towered over their lead runners, the fearsome kanabo club swept up. Smashing through six skulls at his shoulder height with ease as he swung right to left. The terminator then lowered his shoulder and met the charge of a scrap clad brute head on. His weight and momentum knocking the creature flat on its back leaving it helpless for the weapon which swung back up and then down.

Smashing its chest and vital organs to bloody smithereens. Another Nob came forward at a run seeking the challenge of the biggest foe. The terminator stepped inside of the creature's wide swing. Threw his right shoulder into its gut and hoisted the wriggling Ork up into the air. Naylor quickly swung the metal studded head of the club into his left hand, then made his body an anvil hammering the club down on the Greenskin's back. Snapping its spine in two with a laugh.

"Open the assault ramp and take us down," I commanded the thralls, then voxed to my chalk of warriors as I turned to the cockpit's exit,

"Once more unto the breach brothers!" Heads at the back ranks turned to track me. Then the boots and bodies to which they were attached stepped after me as I passed them, moving to follow the ones who had already leapt from the Stormbird,

_"Kill them all!"_

* * *

Line soldiers ran and fired, the Orks were so close they couldn't possibly miss. I heard the distinct roars of jump packs sending assault marines up to come crashing down like meteors or straight into the Xenos like battering rams.

The heavy clunk of our craft touching down timed perfectly with my armored boots landing back on the deck. A feeling that had always brought a sense of closure and safety to me before. Returning to the embrace of our mighty vessel. But not now.

The clash and clamor of battle, the reeking odors of spilt blood from rupture bodies tinged with the metallic tang of gun smoke had invaded our home.

And blood called out for blood.

I saw them, what were once our thralls. Butchered where they had tried to turn and fight the Orks they had no chance of beating. Weapons too big for their mortal hands were broken alongside their bodies on the red stained deck.

Most Legionnaires felt this way, even myself. Accepting thralls were not important, easily replaced menials omnipresent through the Legion. Praetor Vaurion had tried to teach otherwise, that our servants may not have been the Emperor's chosen. But these failed initiates, distant blood to the first Astartes, lesser sons of indebted noble families and refugees rescued from where the Dawn Stalkers had roamed. Whatever they were or used to be, the thralls were a part of our Legion.

And I saw here, they were the only ones who died with their faces to the foe.

I vaulted over a fuel pipe and crashed into a Green skin before his ax could fall. My knees denting its scrap armor and throwing it back against a maintenance scaffold. The creature's bark of frustration turned into bubbling gurgles as it collapsed to die a slow death from my claws piercing its chest.

Even before my bladed fingers exited from the fatal wounds more were upon me. I shrugged off a cleaver blow on my left shoulder, turned and quickly cut the Ork's hands off. Another marine stepped forward, put a bolt pistol to the Xeno's head and pulled the trigger. Painting the end of another violent scene.

Roaring battle cries sounded behind me. I caught and cut another axe in half when I turned. Like I was swimming through water I began to claw my way through the creatures behind the one who spent a fatal second to long staring in disbelief at the broken handle.

* * *

I pulled what remained of the Nob's corpse from the data station. A free standing console at the mouth of one aisle in the hangar. The dead carcass crashed back with a meaty thud and I pointed my left index finger and the blade adorning it to the first warrior I found at my side,

"Status report, now!" I commanded,

He slung his bolter on his hip and proceeded to try and coerce some form of useful information out of the terminal while I set to guarding him.

Four squads arrayed themselves in a square around us, rallying to the standard Sergeant Ryder soon brought to our position. A few more splashes of blood and a couple new bolt holes through that once pristine piece of cloth. All aiming their bolters and looking for threats from every direction even as it seemed the fighting was starting to make its way to the deeper parts of the ship. A new battle line forming to keep the green tide at bay. Anchored on the blood spattered terminators triumphant over their foes, firing their weapons at any Xeno they saw.

The last of the Stormbirds came in shooting, seeking a place to land and disgorge their Astartes. Their engines burying the clash of combat. And one last great lumbering Nob stumbled its way towards our square and the other Orks dead at our feet.

But the brothers held their fire this time. The beast was as good as dead with Master Bruis climbing up its back ready to smash his power maul down into its skull while his last acolyte guided its unbalanced bulk with his power sword up to the hilt in its right side like a longship's steering oar.

More droplets splattered over our armor when Master Bruis brought his maul down. Falling with the beast but nimbly rolling to his feet soon after.

Sensing a pause I looked to the warrior manning the data station. Master Bruis approached. And the sound of a roaring jetpack heralded Captain Arminger landing off to my left.

The warrior at the console looked to me,

"Damage?" I inquired,

He looked back, "Starboard's a ruin, guns are silent. Orks are coming across the ship… But mostly headed for the bridge… Some to engineering."

Master Bruis looked to me, "Well, orders Skius?"

Before I could give any, Captain Arminger pulled me back with his shield hand. Stepping forward as if I didn't even exist, "We send everyone out to the starboard side. Clear the Orks and turn this boarding…"

"John!" I yelled and pushed him back to face me, "Mind your place,"

"No brother," He returned, no camaraderie in his voice, "The Vanguard was disbanded when Lord Vaurion called his echelon to him. This is the,"

But before the assault captain could explain what his hunger for glory told him we should do Master Bruis cuffed him over the head,

"Vain fool," The Diaconus reprimanded, "Vaurion summoned the Vanguard. The Vanguard is led by Commander Centermerius and you would do well to remember that."

Bruis turned his black helm to me, gave a short nod of respect and swept his left hand and plasma pistol indicating the console. A move conducted as if there were no distant alien cries and weapons fire still ringing against our helmets. I shoved past my glaring second, putting a bit more force than necessary behind my shoulder.

I scanned the tactical map of the ship one more time, " _Our_ orders are to secure the ship. Master Bruis, take the terminator wing and two companies to the bridge. Captain Arminger, take the rest of the Vanguard to the spinal marshalling corridor. The Xenos have half our ship, don't let them take the second half."

Arminger interjected, "Fat lot of good that is going to do us if the Orks pull their heads out of their arse-holes and just bomb the  _Rays_  to death with that ship on our hull like I'd be doing."

I ignored his tone and his attempts to be difficult, "We shall deal with that in due time Captain."

As I stepped back I clicked open the vox to my handpicked squads, ten of them that had made it through the chaos we left on the ground, "We're going to the Engineerium…"

* * *

It was a treacherous task, crossing this vessel that to walk the length of would have taken a day under the best of circumstances. Orks were encountered and gunned down just as quickly as they appeared. Sometimes, the beasts were still dangerous. Several of us left these encounters with new battle wounds of bolt and blade. Others did not leave at all. One brother opened another hatch and had his head blown off by a lucky rocket before we hurled grenades in.

Lights flickered over our heads, occasional tremors shook the battle barge and made us stumble. We even vaulted in great leaps through one larger corridor where gravity had failed entirely. But we made good time, and soon found ourselves at one of the side entrances to the beating heart of the  _Rays_.

I had never seen these great doors sealed before, though I imagined it was a good thing they were so. Blackened splashes of soot and carbon were prominent along with the deep gouges that could only have been from powerklaws. Evidence of multiple failed entrance attempts by the invading Xenos.

On several open vox channels I called out for anyone in the massive open bay that lay on the other side of this monolithic door, "Engineering this is Commander Centermerius, I am outside and have reinforcements… Engineering respond… Any imperial personnel, this is,"

As I spoke a frightened voice squeaked in low gothic over the vox, a whisper that I could barely make out the words of,

" _Commander? Is that you?"_

Narrowing in on this frequency I spoke again, trying to put bracing iron in my words, "Identify yourself."

"Enginseer designate three, three, one, seventeen, milord. I mean… This is Egli Commander."

Surprised, I plied the adept with questions, "Where is the Magos Dominant, Enginseer?"

"He was communing with the  _Brimming Rays_  and the machine spirit lashed out," Egli explained,

"Is he dead?"

"As good as…" Egli said, his words in a haunted tone. I knew what the adept meant.

"Open the blast door, section four beta Adept," I commanded the Martian.

"I'll try Commander… Wait a minute,"

Egli's last words were not a request for patience. They were a declaration of his own startled confusion. The vox clicked again for half of a panicked sentence,

" _Oh! Shi-"_

Immediately as the line fell silent the floor rumbled like an earthquake hit. Engineering had been breached.

"Egli respond!" I demanded,

No answer came.

"Damn and damn again," I cursed. Raising my right claw I signed for my chosen, "Bring a melta bomb."

A bronze clad sergeant moved to the door carrying the requested device. Yet a realization struck me.

"Use two Sergeant," I commanded,

He looked back the only sign of his confusion a slight twist to his head, "Sir?"

"It's a ' _blast'_  door."

* * *

This time I was first into the breach. Throwing my bulk into the open, propelled by my arms and claws to the side of the instant doorway made. My wrist bolter came up scanning for targets in the cavernous machine bay.

If the ship had organs I would have been standing in its heart.

The great muscle's equivalent that was the Warp reactor pumping the life blood of energy through the ship lay to my right many, many meters distant. Great rows of turbines beneath the catwalk I found myself on, shrouded in exhaust steam churned and endlessly fed the power core. The walls I remembered were covered in pipes and conduits, but I could not see them in the distance. Intermittent data stations dotted the gantries, mostly next to access tunnels that led deeper into the bowels of the Battle Barge.

To my left was what I sought, a nexus of the black metal walkways before the master control station. Twenty by twenty paces of interfaces and controls circled around the machine spirit of the  _Brimming Rays_.

Several red robed Mechanicum adepts had taken cover behind these consoles. More hoping to remain unseen than taking the chance the screens would block a projectile.

Of which many were flying over their heads. The Orks were several meters closer to the vulnerable Martians and had already gunned down the few Skitarii guards left to watch them. I broke into a sprint and my chosen followed suit.

I fired as my feet pounded against the grating, and the Orks shifted their focus to the more interesting targets. The chests of the first stood no chance against the mass reactive shells carefully sent at center mass by the Dawn Stalker's squad standing still by our entrance. More fell as quick snapshots managed to land.

But the Orks returned fire. I lowered my head out of instinct as I ran, still taking several hits. Especially as we drew closer to each other.

One of which penetrated my armor.

I grunted and lowered my right claw to my now bleeding side. Stray droplets of red leaked from the low wound beneath my palm. It didn't hurt at first, feeling only as if I had taken a punch to the guts. Cold soon ran through my system, as my body reacted to the damage.

On a wave of adrenaline I roared a challenge and swung high right at the Ork which had beat me to the nexus. The Xeno raised a burly arm and blocked my slashing strike forearm to forearm. But I stabbed my left claw down into a thigh and spun myself clockwise.

My right claws slid into the Greenskin's back like butter and with another mighty yell I flipped it back over my head and hurled it down into the turbines.

Before the beast even struck below I had caught a long bladed cleaver swung for my stomach between my hands. The Orks were upon us. Once again the noise of melee devoured the ambience. Chainblades, screaming Xenos, harsh cracks and wet thuds of metal hitting armor and then flesh. Ever familiar, even when heard a thousand different ways a thousand different times.

"Egli!" I called out as I gutted the Ork. Scanning the control center for the adept.

The first thing I saw however was the Magos Dominant. The machine cult elder, a true cyborg with multiple mechanical additions to his base form was wired to and slumped at the base of a dome slightly risen from the floor. His red hood had fallen from his metal scalp, eyes wide at nothing while he panted on the ground. His mouth almost dislocated from screaming at the trauma which was the last thing he would ever experience.

To the right of this living corpse another red hood rose up like a rodent from a hole. And was immediately bisected by an Ork chopper from the other side of the console the adept attempted to hide behind.

I cursed, out loud this time even as I slashed out another throat. A Marine dove across the entire control station from one end to the other to tackle this murderous Greenskin away from the survivors.

Another Adept rose from his hiding spot, his rebreathing mask down across his chest. His brown hair inundated with sweat held back by his headband. Egli called back to me,

Shouting a warning,

_"Behind you Commander!"_

As he was sounding the first syllables of my temporary rank the little net hit my left shoulder. A small thing, not enough to even entangle a scout marine. Tendrils of smooth wire magnetized to my armor, and formed the bridge through which thousands of volts of electricity poured into me.

I froze as my muscles convulsed, unable to give sound to the pain in my limb. Yet when I regained some modicum of control over my body I was already rolling across the deck. Now several meters away.

The cord that bound me to my assailant I shredded as I came up on the tip of my feet, left hand firmly on the floor right splayed back for balance.

What remained of the surprisingly high tech device quickly returned to a port in the forearm bracer of the Ork Mek that had shot it.

It was an obese creature, a large green gut spilling from beneath its breast plate as it stood a head taller than most of the other Xenos. Burly long limbs however hinted at strength waiting to be unleashed. Yellow paned goggles covered its eyes, and a grin full of crooked cracking teeth split its face above a massive jaw.

Smoke rolled from the miniature power plant latched to its back. In its right hand before the gauntlet the creature hefted a truly massive scrap axe with the single grip. The left hand poised to draw from a selection of tools arrayed in a leather satchel.

But what stuck out to me the most, was the odd out of place shape that sat upon its left shoulder. It almost seemed to be made flat planes of black glass etched with many hexagonal patterns. With several thin jointed legs coming out and down into the alien's hide. As if the creature had decided to place an oddly geometric spider upon itself. Looking closer I saw blue veins spreading out in all directions on the Orks skin beneath this thing.

I would examine it further after I slew this beast.

Springing off my feet I charged, aiming to ram my claws into his blubbery guts. The Mek ripped its left hand back then forth pulling on a cord strung to its back. The barrel of a scavenged volkite blaster sprung up over its left shoulder on a servo arm. Blasting a thermal ray straight into my chest.

It knocked the breath from my lungs but I didn't even break stride. It swung the axe aiming to cut me in two, but I was already past the chopping blade.

I stopped the shaft in my left palm, then reached for crushed and tore the blaster free with my right in a fountain of sparks. I threw a boot into its armored stomach trying to push the creature back. It snarled and in response gripped onto my right arm and the bolter attached to it.

Letting go of the axe I raked my left claws across the lightly armored bend of that limb. The snarl turned into a hiss of pain that ended as I threw my whole weight behind my shoulder ramming into the Ork. The Mek only tightened its hold, pulling my wrist bolter right off its mounts. Throwing the weapon down amongst the turbines,

An action I had no time to be irked for.

Using our combined momentum the Mek pushed me away as we turned like two partners in a dance. Then the beast raised its axe back and swung down, its smile biting through my left shoulder pauldron. Drawing a line of fire where it cut my skin beneath.

I roared and swung up, knocking the blade out of this new wound and away. The Mek pulled back for another swing, when its arms were back behind it's seemingly too large head with no chance to block I leapt and rammed all ten claws home into its stomach.

Only for the greenskin to wrap its arms around me, axe handle in both hands gripped tight and crushing me against its breast plate. Stress creaking through my bronze painted ceramite. I shouted out feeling my bones grind together even as my claws dug deeper into the Ork's bulk and I strained to break free of this hold.

* * *

And then it spoke,

Broken gothic words as I knew the Xenos were sometimes capable of, I had heard them often enough. But I was shocked this thing had chosen now of all times to dialogue. Especially in such a manner that came out of its smiling mouth along with the spit now coating my visor.

"Tha's stabby bitz nota wha hurtzin mes ta moszt sirrah. Tis tha fac that'cha nut evunz gets me tha grazy o a parlay ya diddy not sirrah!"

The beast tightened its grip and I felt the tips of my boots leave the ground.

"Weez'a tryin agains me tinks." The Mek spoke again with a lopsided smile, "Ello' tere sirrah. Oim delightad ta beh maken yor acqwaintanz."

Its guttural voice attempting to be pleasant only stirred the wounded embers in the pit of my chest. How dare this creature attempt to be civil, after all the death and destruction it and its kind had visited upon us...

My chosen were locked in a dozen separate duels, they couldn't help me. I strained with all my might attempting to break free. Pushing its arms like tree trunks back away, centimeter by painful centimeter

I did not consider the action wise in hindsight, I needed to save my strength but I found the voice challenge at the Xeno mechanic.

"Foul beast! You will not… Defile this ship!"

"Defylon?"The Mek asked, a confused look coming across its ugly face, "Oim hurtz oi zis sirrah! I'za guard e barg wit me loif if yah just'a givz er ta meh. No no no. Oim a take verrryyy guud care o'er." I shuddered at the obscene pleasure it put into those cords of sound, "Makon sure shes getzin propa Orkied up…"

The Ork perked up a bit, tilting its head to the side and throwing an even bigger smile as a thought hit its tiny brain, "…Oi moight evun ask yunz ta join me crew. Ain't neva ad a humie in tha band befar. Whatcha say Cap'n? Weza sayl outs a dis buggerin storm tagetha."

"I… Would… Rather…"

_I took my chance._

Twisting my claws ever so slightly to the right. They slid down and out of the rubbery flesh along with a torrent of blood and peeking entrails. And as my weapon was freed so was I, slipping out of the Ork's brutal embrace.

Before he could react I spun up from my nearly prone position and ripped his stomach clean open with a wide slash. The Ork howled in pain, crashing down on its bent right leg. Trying to support it's weaken bulk with the great axe planted head first.

I rose to my full height, properly eye to eye with this creature now. As down on its knee it did not look so tall. I made to teach it a lesson before sending it to oblivion. If it moved a muscle I would end it. Raising my left index finger I drew my own smile on its face, splitting open its right cheek from its ear to the mouth.

"You will never have this vessel. Not as long as,"

Everything happened so fast,

I knew I could have rammed either of my old captain's weapons into the Mek's chest and ripped out its heart in an eye blink, had I seen this trick coming.

The Ork opened its mouth ever so slightly. And a thin stream of black smoke hissed through yellow teeth and impacted on my red staring visor. That would not have fazed me in the slightest, were it not for whatever was laced in this attack that made my HUD go haywire. Filling the screen with static causing an involuntary flinch to freeze my body for the briefest of moments and making me blind to the axe punch that sent me thudding backwards.

The quick pulse of adrenaline faded from my veins with the interference. And I looked up from my splayed position on my back and saw the beast stand as if unharmed.

"Regretably yah maken me come ta dis sirrah," The Mek said, "Izza porfact gent I waz. A reasonabal Ork oi am."

I growled beneath my breath, "How..." Before catching myself and focusing my efforts on returning to the fight.

But the Greenskin heard me,

"O dis?" It asked pointing at its ruptured guts with its left hand, "Oi biddy thee lookee o'ere' sirrah."

I came to a crouch, holding back my charge when a peculiar sound reached my ears. I could only describe it as a loud zipper, drawn fast and hard up its course.

The Ork shuddered,

The strange thing on its shoulder began to move.

Thin spindly limbs tunneling down into the Ork's flesh. Defying common sense with their new length. I pondered if I there was storage unseen in the curious device, or if the legs were being further grown right before my eyes.

Grown for a purpose that made my skin crawl.

Multiple legs appeared from the top of the wound and raced to cross it like a rope bridge over a canyon. And when they found purchase on the other side, the legs began to reel in like a fishing rod.

Pulling the Ork's death wound closed.

The beast chuckled and tilted its head to let me see the wound on its face. The same phenomenon happened to this cut as well. Legs quickly crossed and close the extension of its mouth leaving not but a blue line to mark that it had ever existed.

"Me proide n'joy tis'e ere sirrah! Oi pick'd er upa tin a bitty plaze no,"

_Egli didn't let the beast finish explaining,_

From the shadows unseen the young Enginseer had approached when the Ork had revealed its little trick. Fighting through his overwhelming fear to come to my aid.

Now bearing the cog headed power ax he had taken up when the Magos Dominus no longer had need for it,

Egli swung with all his might, the Ork paused and glanced backwards to see what had loosed all the air in its lungs for a shout of exertion. Bringing the blade down over the Ork's left shoulder,

Cleaving into the alien device perched upon its flesh.

Feedback from the damage coursed through the Xeno's body, making him writhe and scream in pain. Falling down on to its knees and dropping the giant scrap ax to the floor plating with a loud clatter as the strange machines arms twisted deeper and deeper.

"Oooooohhhh," The Greenskin hissed looking back over its shoulder again at Egli, "Tha's a foine choppa yah gotz dere… Runt,"

Egli twisted his grip on the weapon, "Let me show you its features!"

* * *

Blue electric bolts, plainly visible erupted from the Mechanicum ax. Following the little mechandrites down to the closed wound. Burning every centimeter they went inside of the Ork. The beast moaned and howled trying to reach back for the Enginseer.

Like pulling root vegetables from a field, Egli began to lever the Xeno device out of the Ork. The deep sutures coming back out from whence they came covered in blood. The beast howled again, and this time when it cast its right arm back it took hold of the power ax's handle.

Egli let the creature take it. He knew he wouldn't match its strength.

And now I had an opening.

The Ork's head snapped back to me as I roared and charged back. It threw away the Dominus's ax then raised its right arm to fire something else at me.

Whatever it was flew past in a blur of smoke and sparks.

The Mek had missed.

And my left claw rammed into its right shoulder. Pinning the grasping limb in place.

Allowing me to seize the extended bundle of cable legs coming from its body and grip tight. Tearing almost half a bloody meter free now as I turned,

Using all my might to throw the Ork up over my head and slam it down to the ground. Tearing another five lines deep across its armored chest letting more precious life blood fall to the deck. More of the tendrils came out, enough to reopen the Mek's belly wound until they snapped off under the strain. I dropped the device and casually crushed it beneath my left boot heel.

I paused to catch my breath, Egli came to my left. Eyes scanning my bronze form up and down checking for any serious damage.

And joining me in watching the Xeno bleed to death.

The Ork moaned and squirmed clutching at its fatal wounds with ichor running through its fingers. Until its pitiful death cries gave way to final words.

"Ohhhh… Tis bettaa… To'a…" It put the last of its strength into one last cry, "WAAAGHED! N losty thanta neva…"

Its little speech ended in a wet gurgle as the life faded away. So I raised my head to take in the situation.

My chosen had pushed the Orks back to the breaches. The beasts abroad in the ship having lost interest in the room when the Mek fell and stopped coming in to look for a more interesting fight. Now the Dawn Stalkers stood guard at the doors they couldn't reseal.

Egli threw down the axe and sprinted back to the control ring. Two other surviving tech priests stood up from beneath their consoles and began attacking the terminals with the speed of their fingers.

As I began to walk towards the Martians the ship violently shuddered. Distant crashing booms filled the halls and I nearly fell to the floor again. My arms spinning wildly in a quest for balance.

The enginseer hitched his face mask up, binary screeches began flowing between himself and his cohorts. I stood before Egli, the adept nearly at eye level with me now on his raised platform.

"Seer, what was that?" I demanded,

He looked across the glowing green screens but did not respond, one of the others at his back looked over and let out a long string of binary.

I raised my voice, "Can you contact the bridge? Egli what is going on?"

He looked into my visor, switching to gothic, "The Ork ship has dislodged. It's reversing course."

"Preparing for another ram?" I asked,

"Logical," Egli said,

"Can you contact the bridge?" I asked again,

The Adept shook his head, "No. No one is responding with anything but gunfire."

"What can we do?"

Egli interlocked his fingers underneath his chin wracking his brains.

I let out a breath in disgust at his inaction, raising my right claw up in a broad stroke as I threw out the first plan to come to mind, "Engines? Can we go evasive?"

"Perhaps," Egli said, "We can deploy most functions of the ship from here. But… If the Orks detect activity they will ram us immediately. Or blast us into oblivion."

"How far away are they now?"

He looked down, "Breaking twenty kilometers."

"Do we have weapons?"

"…Only one lance cannon on the starboard side is still operational. We can only fire it once remotely without a crew to perform the sustaining and readying rites on the gun itself… Forward torpedoes are loaded but if we start to move into firing position…"

I growled, "Then what can we do aside from die adept?"

"… _Plasma Lance_."

* * *

"What?" I asked in serious question. I knew what the two words meant on their own, but had only heard them combined in whispers.

The other two techpriests looked over to Egli and after a pause a new storm of binary screeches filed the air. Egli turned to them raising and throwing his right fist down trying to emphasis a point I could not understand.

This discourse and argument carried on for nearly a minute. Until I spoke and intervened,

"Such a weapon. That's impossible"

"Theoretical there's a difference," Egli said,

"Regardless we have no such technology on this ship."

"We have one shot, a plasma lance could cripple and blind the Orks long enough…"

My voice rose again, "We have no such weapon."

"But we have the means to improvise."

Curious now I asked, "How so?"

One of the other techpriests shouted out, "My lord do not listen to him! Egli's plan is madness! Trust…"

Egli turned and snapped, "You know it can work! And you know that…"

"What is your plan…?" I growled silencing them all, I needed answers not argument, "Explain, Adept…"

The Enginseer took a deep breath, "We can fire the starboard lance one last time. As it charges, we overload the power reactor beneath. The plasma floods out and laces the energy stored with,"

"Hold," I commanded raising up my right hand, "Overload a reactor?"

"A small one, yes" Egli said,

"Overload… As in, detonate?"

"Yes," the Martian said, annoyance in his tone and the nod of his head.

"On our own ship?"

"Where else Commander?"

My blood rose up and my hidden features warped into a scowl. Egli continued, "There are only Orks around this deck. No Astartes. And no time left Commander."

"You are missing my point Adept,"

"Do you have a better idea!?"

"I am having a hard time thinking of one worse!"

"Worse than just waiting for the Orks to kill us?"

* * *

… _Perhaps not._

I clenched my hands together. My hearts beating like they were set to burst from my chest.

"…You there," I said looking to the other techpriests,

The one who had objected in gothic straightened up, "My lord, trust the armor around us and…"

"Contact the bridge one more time," I commanded,

The Martian blinked twice then moved to open up a video link on his console. He stared at it for a moment then looked back to me, "No response."

"Then you will make sure that Egli does not tear the ship in half."

He recoiled back, visibly shook, "What? No! You ignorant fool. It will kill,"

I slammed my curled left fist down on the back of the console before me. The clap of ceramite on metal silenced the Adept.

" _Do it…"_ I rumbled low and lethally dangerous with my words.

The Martian looked between Egli and his other fellow one more time, "No I will not, I will not be party to this Heresy!"

The outraged techpriest began to storm off abandoning his control station and his duty. Neither of the others made a move to stop him.

So as he passed close to my left out of the ring of controls I stabbed him through the chest with the four claws on my left. The blades sliding over his collar bone and into his vital organs

His voice modulator crackled in pain and surprise with still red Human blood leaking out from his cyborg body. Trembling hands tried to grasp the mono-edged claws before I pulled back and threw the soon to be dead carcass face first to the deck.

Egli and the other stared in stunned silence at the betrayal and resolution that had occurred so quickly. I spoke again to focus them back on the task at hand.

At the same time, I brought my palms in the center of the heavy gauntlets up to the sides of my head. Disengaging the battered helmet with a hiss of escaping air. Letting me breath in the fresher air that was still laced with the sewer like smell of slaughter. My glistening black hair almost glued to my scalp in sweat. I locked my green eyes on Egli's own

"Victory by any means necessary," Came my first whisper,

"Time is of the essence Adepts…" I reminded them as I put my plumed helm of the back of the console in front of me, "Though if you destroy the ship. I will kill you before the explosion ends us all."

"…Noted Commander, such an outcome's probability is however only… Well. Still better than the Orks leaving us in peace," Egli said, then turned to his compatriot, "Shall we?"

"The Orks are now breaching one hundred kilometers away," The still shocked Adept said after a nod, "I shall begin the feedback surge,"

"No," Egli countered, "I shall manage the over load. Plot the firing sequence. Sync for fifteen seconds. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Mark."

Egli pressed another string of commands. The great engine began to hum with growing power. Vents belched hot air and used coolant far below us. Both adepts had their eyes glued to their readouts.

"Lance is ready," The distant one confirmed.

Egli spoke as he worked, with none of the playfulness he used for me deep in the alien power plant, "Begin firing sequence. Power levels critical. Safeties have been… Disengaged. Detonation in five, four, three."

"Target locked. Energy saturated."

"Two."

"Firing Lance!"

"One! Mark!"

* * *

I shut my eyes,

Bracing myself for death.

A death which did not come.

The ship trembled again. Like some star borne giant out of myth struck the side with his club. Warning klaxons blared in the distance. Trying to alert the crew of fires, explosions, hull breaches and destroyed weapons. I could only imagine what the end results of our desperate plan could look like.

But we endured, the ship was yet in one piece.

 _Now to see about our enemy_.

Egli called out, rather weakly I noted. He was even more surprised than I was, "Bulkheads… Bulkheads are sealed. Fires are being vented… Damage is, contained."

He unhitched one side of his face mask, letting me see the dim smile on his mouth, "Could have been worse. Hmph. It's almost like we planned this…"

"The Orks Egli," I reminded him,

He switched to the sensor arrays, "Direct hit. Plasma is spreading."

The other interjected, "They haven't opened fire yet. Armor values should be negligible."

"Then turn this beast around," I ordered, "Ready torpedoes."

He nodded and complied, I made a note in my mind to learn his name, "Preparing emergency thrusters."

Egli stated, "Firing solution ready."

He pressed another button, waking the ship wide communications,

"All hands!" His gothic words filled every inch of the distant corridors, "Brace for maneuvering! I repeat! Brace, brace, brace!"

I gripped tight to the console, pressing my bloody left hand down on my helmet to keep it in place. Bending my knees in anticipation.

The noise of the great engines igniting actually sounded worse than the overloading power core. Stressed metal groaning underneath thousands of tons of G-Forces as attempted to tear the  _Rays_ apart at the seams as we swung the bow of our barge and the Stormbird sized tubes within to face their target. These forces pulled at everything on board threatening to make me stumble and fall. An event lasting longer in my mind than I'm sure it was in real time.

The two Mechanicum adepts began to chant as they worked and stood firm. Practiced verses and phrases recited now out of second nature. Allowed for sermons to invoke their god of metal and cogworks. Something in private I had still yet to come to terms with

Egli started, his compatriot soon joined, "See the Omnissiah and know he is truth."

" _Learn from the Omnissiah and know he is supreme."_

_"Honor the Omnissiah for he is perfection made manifest."_

* * *

We snapped back the way we came once the ship halted itself.

"In position," Egli's companion marked,

The Enginseer cleared his throat, "Tubes one, two, three, five, six, and eight firing!"

First there was the blast of rocket engines. A massive explosion of liquid fuel sending the most powerful weapons on board the  _Brimming Rays_  out to its target. Reverberating through the hull for several seconds making the warship ring with energy until silence fell.

"Impact?" I questioned the two men.

Egli counted, "Two, one…"

He clapped his hands once then raised them up in fists shouting in triumph, "Yes! Take that you green ugly bastards!"

More sedately the other stated, "Target destroyed Commander."

I let out a sigh of relief, resisting the urge to run a hand back over my bare head which probably would have resulted in me scalping myself.

"Fine work… Brothers," I told the two. Egli looked quite beside himself in satisfaction.

_His comrade realized they still had a job to do._

My mood shifted into startled alert at his next words, "Last contact moving to run."

"Contact?" I questioned,

"Yes my lord. Escort class. Rang two hundred kilometers moving off bearing eight…"

He froze focusing the ships asupex on something.

"New contact," He said, "Profile unknown. Scanning…"

Egli took a glance, "That's a legion vessel. Frigate class. He's headed right for the, oh. Damn."

"What?" I demanded, my contempt at relying on second hand information knew no bounds.

But a chill ran down my spine when I realized there could only be one ship of that kind in this system now, "Is it the  _First Curse_?"

Egli ignored me and continued, "He's collided head on with the Orks. Both contacts lost. Wait… New contact. Thunderhawk on approach. Their transmitting…"

His voice grew needlessly joyous, "It's a Legion identification code! Yes, confirmed. It's the fifteenth!"

A tone that died immediately when he saw the look on my face,

"Commander?"

" _Target that craft."_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Well hello again internet.
> 
> (I'm here shamelessly fishing for followers for my other story which this is spun off from.)
> 
> Readers wanted Space Marines, I got you Space Marines. Do you love me again?
> 
> To the uninitiated or informed, it's a long story. This will definitely not be as long as my other project. Which hasn't been cancelled but has just been a little slow. For a multitude of reasons.
> 
> This spin off is set in the warhammer half of my other crossover story, about this legion's primarch. And well I just didn't think it would fit over there. Plus like I said. Shamelessly fishing.
> 
> Any who, I hope you'll stick around. Drop a review if you feel it in your heart. Maybe I can get his done faster as the bulk will probably be violence.
> 
> Anyway, you have a good day regardless of what you do next. And I shall see you all again, relatively soon


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